The Angel of the Opera
by Purple Shamrock 17
Summary: COMPLETE! AU Peter Pan/Phantom of the Opera crossover. Wendy Darling is a talented ballerina at the Duke of York's Opera House. She is tutored by the mysterious phantom who haunts the theater...Peter Pan. Contains violence and mild abuse.
1. Prolouge: At the Auction

**Author's Note: Hey, fellow Pan Fans, I'm back…with another crossover as you no doubt saw from the summary. I think someone did a crossover like this before but they sadly deleted it so I decided to see what I could create with two of the most beloved stories in literature. This story follows the same plotline as the 2004 Phantom movie with Gerald Butler. I will make a few references to the original book but they will be really subtle so you don't have to have read the book to understand them. **

**Disclaimer (I'm only going to say this once!): I am not JM Barrie, Gaston Leroux or Andrew Lloyd Webber. If I was, I would either be dead or an elderly musical genius, considering I am none of those things, nothing in this story belongs to me. **

**Enjoy the prologue!**

The Angel of the Opera

Prologue: The Auction

_London, 1944_

A cold autumn breeze blew down the fence lined street and subsequently tugged a few orange leaves from their branches. The leaves darted through the air before they began to drift lazily to the sidewalk below. One of them brushed the shoulder of a man as he walked purposefully toward one house in particular; his shoulders bent to the block the biting wind.

When he reached his destination, he climbed the steps and rang the bell. Luckily he had to wait only a moment or so before it was answered by the maid.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said, looking warily at him.

"Good afternoon," the man replied politely. "Is Mr. Barrie at home?"

"He is, sir, but who is it that is asking?"

Here, the man raised himself up to his full height so the woman could see his face and replied, "James Hooke."

As he expected, the maid slapped a hand over her mouth in surprise and gasped, "_Viscount_?"

"Yes," James replied somewhat exasperatedly, "but I have disposed of my title long ago. I prefer not to, ah, draw attention to myself since, well…" he let his voice trail away and the maid, after a moment's thought on what he was referring to, nodded in understanding. "Oh, yes, sir. I'm sorry if I have offended you, sir."

He waved as if to brush aside her apology. "No need to fret about it but perhaps we might continue this conversation…inside?"

The maid gave a cry of alarm. "Oh, of course, sir! Yes, please come in and I'll let the Baronet know you are here." She opened the door wider, allowing him to enter and James stepped gratefully out of the cold wind and into the warm entryway. Once the maid had taken his coat and hat, she disappeared through a doorway.

While he waited, James pondered upon the title that the maid had given the playwright: Baronet. It was the lowest title that one could receive but it was a title nonetheless and an honor. He could not believe that the man would want to draw attention to himself in such a way.

At that moment, the maid reappeared and said. "He is ready to see you now. I have been told to ask if you wish for some tea, sir?"

"That would be greatly appreciated, thank you," James answered. The maid nodded once and then turned and he followed.

She led him into a small parlor where a large fire burned brightly in the grate and sitting in a high backed chair near it was a small man. His hair was completely white and his face was a pale mass of wrinkles and papery thin. He looked up at their entrance, his blue eyes twinkling brightly despite his advanced age but said nothing as James seated himself across from him and the maid shut the door.

When they were alone, James said softly. "Hello, Jamie. It's been a long time."

"Yes, many would say that forty years is a long time," James Barrie replied stiffly. "To what do I owe this visit from you? Or before you answer that, answer this where have you been all this time?"

"In Sussex," James replied. "Trying to…forget it all."

"And have you succeeded?"

"Hardly. I'm almost sixty years old and I can still see her face…and his masked one. That fateful night still haunts my dreams." He finished softly.

"Yes, I have dreams too," Jamie said sympathetically. "Yet, strangely they are happy ones. After all, I loved them as much as I might love my own children."

"So, you don't hate him then? For what he did?"

"I could never hate that boy and never have. He felt too much hate towards him already," Jamie replied. "Besides, he is the reason my play came into being and I am forever grateful to him for that."

James nodded to show he understood and watched as the old man's eyes glazed over and he slipped into his memories. He waited patiently for him to return and when he did it was with an entirely new question.

"So, James, what is your _real_ reason for coming here? Surely you did not seek me out to dwell upon the past?"

"Well, the past has something to do with it," James admitted. "I was hoping that you might accompany me to…to the auction."

But before Jamie could answer, the maid appeared with the tea. She set it down on a low table next to Jamie, bowed to him and then quickly left the room.

When she was gone and both of them held cups of steaming tea in their hands, Jamie asked. "What auction?" But James could tell from his expression that he knew _exactly_ what auction he was referring to. He pretended that he did not observe this and calmly answered, "The auction at the theater. It's a public auction, anyone can go."

"So, anyone can get their hands on his personal things," Jamie snapped as he lifted his cup to his lips.

"That's exactly what I thought," said James, pleased that the older man seemed to share his view. "We can't let those things go to just anyone. I'm sure half of the people there have heard the story a million times and will want a piece of it. But you and me, Jamie, we're the only ones left who know the real story," he lowered his voice as he spoke and leaned closer to him. "Well, besides Slightly of course, but I can't seem to locate him. So, what do you say? Will you come with me and see if we can't get back something to remember them by?"

"I want nothing else to remember them by," said Jamie gruffly. "I have my memories and they are enough. You go if you so wish it but leave me out of this."

James sighed heavily and stood up. "All right, Jamie, that is your decision and I shall respect it. I merely thought that I might drop by and see if you were interested. I am glad to see that you are still in good health."

The old playwright's face softened at his words. "Thank you, James. I'm sorry for being so…gruff. But as much as I try to think only happy memories of them, it pains to think that I will never see them again." James smiled sadly and nodded. "Yes, I feel the same way, Jamie. I really do." Then he shook the old man's wrinkled hand warmly and left the room.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, James was standing on ground floor of the main theater in the Duke of York's Opera House. It was a mere shadow of its former self now, having been at the mercy of the elements for so long. Dust covered every inch of it and the whole room looked as if it would collapse at any moment. The chairs had been taken out and discarded years ago after the fire. It was so depressing to think that such a place which had been once so full of grandeur and beauty could have been reduced to such a miserable state. He gazed sadly at the crumbling balconies and private boxes as the auctioneer called out bids for a large poster.

He snapped out of his reverie when the auctioneer called out, "And now, lot number 665. A music box, found in the vaults of the theater. It is of the typical box shape but made of a very strong kind of rosewood in which has been carved various wild animals with a great attention to detail. On the lid are two dancing figures, a boy and a girl who are exceptionally well crafted. This piece is still in good working order too! Listen!" The man who was showing each piece to the small crowd, wound the knob with some difficulty. Then, there was a pause before the music began to flow.

It was a soft, sad tune like a lullaby. It was unrecognizable to James but that didn't matter, he was captivated by the simple tune and his heart ached even more so than it ever had for its previous owner.

When the music finally stopped there was a moment of silence before the auctioneer asked, "Shall we start the bidding at ten pounds?"

James raised his hand instantly but was beaten by another man around his age, standing towards the back of the room. James glanced at him in surprise and thought to himself. _Is that_ Slightly?

"Fifteen pounds!" called the auctioneer.

James raised his hand again and was quicker this time as the auctioneer pointed to him and said, "Thank you, sir, now do I hear twenty pounds?"

Again he raised his hand and was surprised when no one else bid, he glanced back at the man whom he was sure was Slightly and saw that he flashed him a small smile.

"Twenty pounds going once…twice…sold to the gentleman at the right!" declared the auctioneer.

When the assistant handed him his prize, James held it as tenderly as he might a lover. He couldn't believe that such a treasure had been hidden for so long.

"I forgot to mention, sir that this box comes with an additional piece," said the auctioneer from where he stood behind his podium. "Inside the box, you will find a curious wooden instrument commonly called panpipes. It is said, ladies and gentlemen that both these items belonged to the ghost that was said to have haunted this theater nearly four decades ago.

"Now, the mystery of the 'phantom of the opera' has never been fully explained but we have here part of what is said to be the very chandelier that played such a large role in the destruction of this great theater."

James had no interest in seeing the chandelier; he only had eyes for the music box. He studied the dancing figures on top. The girl was wearing a simple white dress and the boy in a dark green tunic. They were not really dancing in the usual sense but sort of…flying. Both were standing on leg while the other leg and one arm were slightly outstretched while the other arm was holding the hand of the other. Tiny golden wings were also attached to their backs. With a twinge of his heart he realized that the girl looked remarkably like _her_ and the boy like _him_.

And that was how it had all started, James thought to himself with a slight smile, with a girl…and a _very_ unusual boy.

**Author's Note: That was probably too long for a prologue but oh well, I hope you liked it! Sorry for the cliffy but I will update as soon as possible depending on how well you liked it! So please review! I can't wait to hear what you think!**


	2. New Managers

**Author's Note: Yay, I'm so glad people like this story and want to read more! Here is the official first chapter. Hope you like it and please review! **

Chapter 1

New Management

_London, 1904_

The Duke of York's Opera House was buzzing with activity. One could hardly turn around without bumping into an anxious actor, a crazed crew member or a frazzled makeup artist. It was utterly amazing how everyone was kept on their toes only in preparation for another day's rehearsal but the grand gala that was to be held that very evening and of course, everything had to be perfect.

And in the midst of all the hubbub were two teenage chorus girls as they ran as fast as they could up a spiral staircase in their slippery ballet shoes.

"Tiger Lily, will you please slow down?!" Wendy Darling called to her fellow chorus member and friend.

"It's almost time to start!" her friend yelled back. "We don't want to miss our cue, do we?"

"We don't even come in until twenty minutes into the Act! Besides, would you rather we missed our cue or have me break my neck falling down these silly stairs?"

Tiger Lily did not replay and her answer did not really matter anyway since at that moment, the two girls reached the landing and made their way to their places amongst the other chorus members in the left wing of the stage. From where she was positioned, Wendy had a good view of what was happening on stage and when she looked up to see what part of _Hannibal _was already in progress, she internally groaned.

Standing onstage was Bella Guidicelli. She was the theater's lead soprano and was usually the main lead if a play was being performed at well. She was two years older than Wendy and Tiger Lily who were both sixteen, but usually acted as if she were much older. She wore a large amount of makeup all the time which helped to make her baby blue eyes larger than they really were. Her short blonde was curled to perfection in tight ringlets at all times.

At the moment she was performing one of her many solos in the opera. Since she was the lead soprano, there was no denying that she was talented especially at such a young age but she just tended to…flaunt it in every way that she could. As such her singing became something of a spectacle. Her voice was too loud, too boisterous and utterly unbearable to listen to after just a few minutes much less understand the words she was singing because they were covered up by overdone trills.

Wendy and Tiger Lily were just about to enter with the dance portion of the opera when the maestro rapped his baton on his stand, signaling for silence. He was not a second too early as at that moment four people came onto the stage. One of them, Wendy recognized as the theater owner, Mr. James Barrie, who was more commonly referred to by his nickname, Jamie

"If I could have everyone's attention, I have announcement to make," Jamie called out. Wendy and Tiger Lily instantly stepped forward to better see and listen.

"Now, I am sure you all have been wondering about the rumors of my retirement," Jamie continued. "I can now assure you that these rumors are all true and may I introduce to you all the two men who now own the Duke of York's Opera. You may have heard of their recent success in the junk business---"

"Scrap metal, actually," one of the men corrected him.

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry, scrap metal then," said Jamie with an amused smile despite his mistake. He cleared his throat and then gestured to the two men. "This is Mr. Richard Firmin and Mr. Giles Andre."

A polite applause followed this introduction as the two men smiled and waved to the crowd of actors. Wendy did not join in; she had loved the funny little man like her own father and was profoundly sad that he was leaving. She had hoped that the rumors had not been true.

"The theater will not be the same without Mr. Barrie," Tiger Lily whispered.

"I know," Wendy whispered back. "But perhaps he is just retiring to his native Scotland and I'm sure he'll be back to watch a play or two, he _is _a playwright after all."

Tiger Lily could not reply to this as Jamie began speaking again. "I know many of you are disappointed at my leaving but I want to assure that my assistant, Nico will be staying on to assist the new managers in any way that he can." As he spoke, a brown-haired boy bowed sheepishly from beside Jamie as everyone's eyes turned toward him. Wendy couldn't help but smile at this. Like Mr. Barrie, Nico was preferred to be called by his nickname, Slightly and was only called Nico for business and social reasons. This was also the case for Tiger Lily, who was called Lily in the programs but was known to everyone else as Tiger Lily. The reason for this was that she was from India and like Wendy, had been orphaned at a young age. Since no one knew her real name (she had been found in an alley near the theater) the worker who had found named her Lily since she was holding a wilting one in her dirty hand. As she grew, it was discovered that she had a very feisty spirit and so the Tiger part was added.

"And now," Mr. Richard Firmin was saying on the stage, "allow me to introduce our new patron, the Viscount of Sussex, James Hooke."

Wendy gasped softly as applause heralded the entrance of a handsome dark-haired boy. He was wearing an expensive suit and smiled warmly at the crowd and when his clear forget-me-not blues looked in the direction of the ballerinas, many of them around Wendy giggled.

"Do you know him, Wendy?" Tiger Lily asked.

"Yes," she replied in a whisper, although there was no danger of James hearing her from the distance between them. "We were childhood friends but I haven't seen him since my parents died."

"You should go tell him who you are! He's so handsome!"

Wendy shook her head. "No, he's probably forgotten all about me and he wouldn't recognize me anyway." Then she turned away from her friend as a sign that the conversation was over.

On stage, James Hooke said. "My parents and I are pleased to support all the arts, but especially those of the performing ones and as such we are very excited for tonight's gala." He paused and then concluded. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, I believe I am keeping you from your rehearsal, so I shall take my leave and will wait to see the finished product tonight. My apologies, my good sir." He added, nodding to the maestro.

"Thank you, sir," he called out to the exiting Viscount.

"I believe that is also our cue to leave," said Jamie. "Gentlemen," he added, turning to Firmin and Andre. "Nico and I have some business to attend to but once that is complete we shall rejoin you to finish our tour. But in the meantime, please stay and enjoy the rehearsal." Then, he crooked a finger at the boy and together they disappeared behind the large backdrop.

Wendy watched them leave and she couldn't help but wonder if their 'business' had something to do with the elusive 'opera ghost'.

* * *

When they were far enough away so that the sounds of the rehearsal were out of earshot, Jamie and Slightly stopped. They were standing near the very back of the stage which was mostly covered in shadow.

Raising his gaze to the dusty rafters above him, Jamie called out. "Peter, might we have a word with you?"

There was a moment of silence before something slithered in the gloom and a figure clad from head to toe in black appeared before him. He appeared so suddenly that Slightly jumped in surprise at the sight of him. But Peter seemed not to have noticed as he only had eyes for the playwright.

"Must you go, Jamie?" he asked in such a sad voice that Jamie had a strong desire to renounce his decision to leave. But he knew it was for the best and he replied firmly. "Peter, you have known of my possible retirement for a long time now."

"Well, I _knew_ about it, yes but that doesn't mean that I thought it would actually _happen_. Yet apparently that is the case."

"Yes, it is."

"Hmm, well I suppose I should've expected it. You are not really a businessman after all, Jamie. You are a playwright."

Jamie forced a small smile. "Yes, Peter, I am which is why I have a sort of parting gift for you."

"A present?" Peter asked excitedly, all trace of sadness gone. "For _me_?"

"Yes." He motioned to Slightly who handed him a worn notebook which he in turn handed to Peter. "Here you are."

"Jamie," Peter breathed in awe as he took it carefully in his hands. "This is your play."

"Indeed it is and while I am away, I trust you to finish it for me. I'm going to be spending some time with Sylvia and the boys and will return in early December when I want it to be performed. So, you have until then to complete it. I have complete faith in you, Peter but I wish that you will permit me to read it through once before its first performance."

"Oh, of course, Jamie!" Peter agreed happily. "Oh, yes, I wouldn't dream of not letting you read it over since you are a far better playwright than me, I'm sure."

"Excellent," said Jamie. "And I also want to assure you that Slightly will be staying here to help out Mr. Firmin and Andre and that means that he will be keeping an eye on you as well."

Peter instantly jerked his head to stare at Slightly and he instinctively jumped again as Peter said in a low voice. "I don't need anyone to be 'keeping an eye on me', I can take care of myself!"

"I'm not going to be following you everywhere, Peter," Slightly assured him. "I'm just going to make sure that you…don't cause too much trouble for the new owners."

Peter smirked. "I don't cause any trouble, Slightly. I only wish to have a little fun with the guests of my theater."

"I know that you call this theater home, Peter---" Jamie began.

"It _is_ my home, Jamie."

"But, you know that I would be more than happy to take you with me, if you so choose. You can stop hiding and can be content with the fact that you are not the wretched creature that you think you are." He paused to let his words sink in and then added gently. "And you wouldn't have to hide your face behind a mask." And he reached for the white mask that covered the top half of Peter's face but he shielded it protectively with his hands. "No, Jamie," he snapped. "This theater is my home and the world outside it is an awful and cruel place. I'm sad to see that you are leaving but I will stay here. After all, I must look out for Wendy."

Jamie smiled slightly. "Ah, yes, I had forgotten about your…affections for Miss Darling." He paused and then said. "Very well, Peter, I shall take my leave knowing that my play is in good hands. Remember, I will be back in December so I shan't be away for long."

"Yes, Jamie," said Peter nodding. "Don't worry about me. I'm sure Slightly will fill you in on all of my doings." He glanced at Slightly and then reached into the folds of the cloak he was wearing around his shoulders and handed him a pearly white envelope. "Please give this to Mr. Firmin and Mr. Andre, it includes my instructions for them as the new managers. Now," he said turning back to face Jamie. "I think we have all had enough of Miss Guidicelli's singing for one day, so if you will please excuse me." Without giving either of them time to make out what he could possibly be up to, Peter climbed the rope that he had entered by and disappeared into the shadows, as swiftly as he had come.

**Author's Note: The reason why I'm calling James Barrie, Jamie is because that was his nickname as a child and I think that is what his friends called him as well. He was also called Jim but to me that was too modern for the story somehow. Anyway, hope you liked the chapter and please review!**


	3. An Accident and the Gala

**Author's Note: Wow! Only two chapters and 13 reviews! Thank you all! Here's the official chapter 2 which has many things that you will recognize from the movie and don't worry, Peter will make an official appearance in the next chapter. Enjoy and please review!**

Chapter 2

An Accident and the Gala

From the moment Peter had left, Jamie and Slightly hurried back to the main stage so that whatever it was that Peter was planning occurred, they would be able to take control of the situation as quickly as possible. Jamie had meant to inform the two men of Peter's presence later on but it appeared that the boy had other thoughts on how best to make his existence known.

After they had left, rehearsal had resumed and Bella Guidicelli was once again performing a solo in the exact center of the stage. Except this time, she was singing a different song. It was in Act Three and might to be sung as lullaby but she, wanting to overdo everything to the extreme was singing her lungs out in an attempt to make her voice carry throughout the entire opera. Wendy thought it was absolutely horrible and that she was destroying what was really a beautiful song. She wished then that Bella would hurry up and finish the song so that her poor ears would not have to suffer anymore than they had to.

And then in a way, her wish was granted.

Bella had just hit the final notes of the song, thus allowing everyone around her to hear how 'amazing' her voice was when she was abruptly cut short when the rigging creaked high above her. All eyes were drawn upward and a few people (including Tiger Lily) began to scream as one of the backdrops plummeted to the stage floor, collided with Bella and knocked her to the floor.

Actors cried out and rushed to assist her while Tiger Lily grabbed Wendy's arm in fright and whispered. "He's here! The phantom of the opera!" Wendy said nothing because she knew she was right. Even though she knew he would never show himself during a rehearsal, she scanned the dark ceiling of the stage, searching for any sign of him.

Just then, Jamie, Slightly and the two new managers arrived on the scene. "Mr. Smee!" Jamie called up toward the ceiling. "What the devil is going on up there?"

"Please, sir, don't look at me!" answered the stagehand, his voice echoing from the vastness of the room. "I didn't see anyone, sir but I wasn't at my post." There was a pause as he no doubt went to investigate. "There's no one there, sir!" he called out after a moment or so. "And if there was, well then, he must be a ghost." He ended with a soft cackle.

Whispers erupted from the actors and many of them glanced around in fright while Jamie helped Bella to her feet. Once she was upright, she marched straight to Wendy, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You did this!" She growled.

"_Me_?!" cried Wendy, shocked. "You know very well that the phantom is responsible for making the backdrop fall."

"Yes, but you told him to do it, didn't you?" Bella yelled. "He fancies you, I know he does! Why do you think you always get the top dancing spot when everyone knows you can't dance at all?! I bet he'd do anything to make you happy!"

"I didn't tell him to make it fall!" Wendy cut in. "I've never said a word to him, much less seen his face!"

"You're lying," Bella snapped. "I think you've seen his face many times and I think you---"

"That is quite enough, Miss Guidicelli," said Jamie loudly as he strode over to them. "There is no point in making accusations against Miss Darling, considering that we all know the true culprit behind the incident. Besides, such incidents do happen from time to time."

"Well, these 'incidents' have been happening far too often over the past three years and did you stop them from happening, Mr. Barrie? No! So, _you two_," she rounded on the two managers whose eyes widened in fright, "had _better_ find some way to stop all of these things from 'happening'. Also, until these incidents stop happening,_ I_ do not happen! So I hope you will be just as pleased with dancing girls as you are with my singing because I will not be performing tonight!" With this final declaration, she turned on her heel and stormed off of the stage, blonde curls bouncing as she went.

When she was gone, Jamie turned to Firmin and Andre and said brightly, "Gentlemen, I wish you the best of luck. If you need me, I will be in Scotland." Then, with a parting wave to everyone on stage, he too made his exit.

"Miss Guidicelli, she _will_ return, won't she?" Andre asked desperately to the maestro. The man merely shrugged helplessly.

"If you think so, sir," said Slightly with a small smile. He handed Andre Peter's message which he had taken the liberty of opening. "This is a message for you, my good sirs from the phantom---"

"Oh, bloody hell, you're all obsessed!" said Firmin, rolling his eyes.

"He welcomes you to his opera house," Slightly continued.

"_His_ opera house!" Firmin interrupted loudly.

"And requests that you leave Box Five empty for his use and he reminds you that his salary is due," Slightly finished with an amused smile at their shocked faces. "Mr. Barrie used to pay him twenty thousand pounds a month." He added helpfully.

"Twenty _thousand pounds_?!" exclaimed Firmin, snatching the letter from Andre.

"I know he would be very pleased if you could afford more and perhaps, you can with the Viscount as your patron," said Slightly.

"My dear boy," said Firmin sternly. "I had hoped to make that particular announcement public tonight at the gala but it appears we will have to cancel since we have lost our star!" he yelled as he viciously ripped Peter's letter to shreds.

"We don't have to cancel the gala, sir," said Slightly, "because Wendy Darling could sing Bella's song."

At this suggestion, Wendy vigorously shook her head as the three of them turned to look at her.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, I don't have the volume that Bella does," she protested. "Besides, I have very little training---"

"Oh, Wendy, I've heard you sing and it's lovely," Slightly whispered to her as he took her wrist and began to lead her toward the front of the stage. To the managers, he said. "She has been taught by a great teacher."

_But not in singing!_ Wendy yelled at him in her head.

"Who?" Andre asked instantly.

"I—I don't know his name, sir," she replied.

"Let her sing for you, my good sirs, she has been well taught," said Slightly confidently.

"Well, all right, as it appears we have no other options at the moment," said Andre. He gestured for Wendy to come forward. "Come along, my dear, don't be shy."

Wendy gulped as she walked slowly forward until she was standing almost at center stage. From there, she looked back at Slightly and Tiger Lily who both gave her encouraging smiles. Then, she turned around to face the vast theater and began to sing.

It was soft at first and quavered a little with nervousness but once her confidence grew, her voice rose in clarity and beauty. Unlike, Bella's performance, Wendy sang the song as it was meant to be sung and kept the notes within her range without forcing herself to go higher than was necessary. Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen and some of the stagehands took out the beeswax from their ears in order to hear her better. All were captivated by her soft, yet clear voice.

Everyone was so entranced that they did not notice the dark figure standing on the catwalk that ran across the top of the stage. Peter stood in the exact center, listening as intently as the rest of them and his heart soared with Wendy's voice and behind his white mask, he smiled.

* * *

They rehearsed _Hannibal_ for much of the day afterward and before anyone knew it, the gala had begun and Wendy was singing just as beautiful as she had in rehearsal. The theater had a full house that night and all eyes were on her as she sang, many of them secretly glad that this girl was performing instead of Bella Guidicelli and when she had finished her song everyone in the audience rose to their feet, clapping and whistling so loudly that the magnificent chandelier above the crowd seemed to shake from the noise.

Yet no one clapped harder or louder than James Hooke.

He was sitting in Box Five. Firmin and Andre had sold it to him especially for the performance. While he had watched, he couldn't help but notice that the young red haired girl looked oddly familiar and by the end he had come to the conclusion that it was Wendy Darling, his dear friend from childhood. So naturally, he was desperate to speak with her.

Unfortunately this was not to be since as soon as the performance was over, Wendy immediately went backstage and still in her gala dress, ran all the way to the opera's small chapel.

It wasn't that she was ashamed at her performance, on the contrary, she couldn't remember a time when she had performed better but it was a tradition of hers to go to the chapel after every show. This was partly due to the fact that there was always a wild party after every gala and there was really no point in her being there since it usually contained large amounts of alcohol. The second reason was that she was so tired afterwards that she just wanted to be alone and the chapel, she had discovered was the one place where she could be.

After she had lit a few of the candelabras around the room, she settled herself on one of the low benches near the wall and relived the past few hours in her mind's eye. She couldn't believe that she had sung so well in front of so many people! She had enjoyed every minute of it but had been terribly nervous through the whole thing and was quite glad now that it was over.

She had only been sitting there in silence for a few minutes when she heard someone calling. "Wendy! Wendy, where are you?!"

"In here Tiger Lily!" Wendy called back.

At that moment, Tiger Lily appeared at the arched doorway. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing in here?"

"The same thing I always do, just sit and think and relax."

"Well, you certainly deserve to relax after such a performance!" said Tiger Lily happily as she walked further into the room and knelt beside Wendy. "You were wonderful! I think your performance was the best out of the entire night!"

Wendy smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, Lily. I'm pleased with it too but I was so nervous."

"It didn't show at all."

"Good, I'm glad about that."

"Yes, you were so professional! Are you sure your teacher isn't giving you private lessons?"

Wendy shook her head. "No, he has told me many times that he can't sing but he does love music and the theater in general."

"So what does he teach you then?"

"Acting and dancing, mostly."

"And you've _never_ seen his face?"

"No, never."

"How is it that you met him then?"

"I've told you this story a hundred times, Lily."

"Yes, but it's all so mysterious with the ghost causing that backdrop to fall and your strange teacher that I want to hear it again."

"Oh, very well," Wendy sighed. She looked at one of the glowing candelabras for a moment before she began. "Jamie brought me here when I was nine years old after my parents died. I was still trying to grasp the fact that I had no family but I didn't want to show it in public so I would often come here to grieve for them.

"One night, when I had been living here for about a month. I was sitting in here, thinking of my family when I saw the shadow of a boy, I called out 'Who's there?' and the strange boy replied 'I am, the ghost of this theater', he seemed rather pleased with such a role and I wasn't frightened at all by him. Then he told me that he had watched me during my dance lessons and said that I seemed to be having some trouble. He offered to help me learn to dance better right here in the chapel. He then asked why I came here so often as I did and I told him how parents had died from illness. He felt very sorry for me and said that we would begin lessons right away to help me not feel so lonely."

"Did you finally see his face then?" asked Tiger Lily eagerly.

"No, he taught me with his shadow!" Wendy cried happily. "I looked everywhere in here to see where he could possibly be hiding and also cast his shadow but I never found him. He also never told me his name but that really didn't matter to me, being as young as I was. I was just glad to have my own secret friend. The best part was that sometimes instead of helping me to dance, he would tell me stories and they were the most wonderful stories, Lily! About fairies and magical places and pirates! He was most happy when I added my own suggestions to them. So ever since then we have been meeting here for my lessons. He is a very kind and patient teacher and a very dear friend. I wish you could meet him, Lily but he is very reclusive and as soon as we are finished, he disappears or at least his shadow does. He says he likes to meet here because he loves the fact that no one else knows that we are here."

"He sounds wonderful, Wendy but very strange," said Tiger Lily when Wendy had finished. "I think you are much braver than me to form a relationship with such a person."

"Oh, I'm not scared of him at all," said Wendy as she stood up from her hard bench. "I feel very safe around him."

Tiger Lily said nothing. She couldn't imagine feeling safe around anyone who refused to show their face.

"I suppose we should get back to our rooms now," said Wendy. "It's very late and I'm so tired from the performance."

Tiger Lily agreed and twenty minutes later they were standing outside Wendy's dressing room only to find that it was blocked by a small crowd of admirers. When they arrived, the crowd swarmed around Wendy, catching her off guard. She could barely understand what any of them were shouting at her until someone to her right grabbed her wrist, pulled her to one side and led her safely into her room.

When they were inside, her rescuer shut the door behind them and turned around to face her whereupon Wendy saw that it was...Slightly.

"It looks like you already have a strong band of admires, Wendy," he said with an amused smile. "And I don't blame them! You did amazingly well, Wendy!"

"I swear to you, Slightly, I have not," Wendy assured him. "Besides, I think I much prefer dancing to singing. I'm so much in the spotlight that way."

"She kept telling me how nervous she was but it didn't show at all!" Tiger Lily told Slightly excitedly. To Wendy she said, "Stop being so modest! Everyone loved your performance!"

"Including _him_, it seems," said Slightly with another amused smile. He handed Wendy a red rose that an emerald green ribbon tied around it. She took it cautiously and held it between two fingers, heart fluttering in her chest. She knew exactly who it was from and had received many roses from him after each of her performances whether she thought them good or bad. Every rose that she had received and she noticed that this rose was no exception, had every thorn carefully cut off. She stroked one of the petals with her fingertip, loving the softness of it and beauty of the flower.

"We should probably leave you alone now," said Slightly quietly, breaking into her scrutiny of the gift. "We have all had a long day and deserve a good night's sleep, especially you, Wendy." Then he smiled and nodded to her before he turned and left the room. With a final parting word to Wendy, Tiger Lily left as well.

When she was alone, Wendy sighed heavily as she sat down at her vanity. She knew that she should heading down to the dormitories like the other two but she didn't really feel especially tired yet. Instead, she continued to study the phantom's gift. Although she had not told Tiger Lily, she knew that her elusive teacher and the phantom were one in the same. There was no other explanation as to why he would not show himself.

She smiled at the thought of him and wondered when she would see him again. She laid the rose to one side, stood up and then went to change out of her gala dress into something much comfortable.

**Author's Note: Hopefully that didn't end too abruptly. This was actually a lot longer but I cut it so it wouldn't be ridiculously long. So half of the next chapter is already done but I don't know I will get it up because I have finals next week. I am have some time over the weekend, but I'm not guaranteeing anything. In the meantime, please review!**


	4. Peter Breaks Through

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm sorry haven't updated this story in so long since people obviously want to read more but I had finals all of last week and was very busy/stressed. But now they are over and I am back home and it is officially summer for me! Yay, so happy about that!**

**So here's the much awaited next chapter. Hope you enjoy and as always please review!**

Chapter 3

Peter Breaks Through

The small queue of admirers outside had long dispersed but this did not stop Firmin and Andre from waiting outside Wendy's door in order to formally congratulate her.

It appeared that James Hooke had this very same idea as he strode up to her door without even seeing the two managers.

"Ah, Viscount!" called Andre, getting the young man's attention. "I think we have made quite a discovery with Miss Darling, don't you agree?"

"Were you going to congratulate her?" Firmin asked before James could answer. "If so, we would very much like to accompany you, the girl certainly deserves it."

"Yes, I was but gentlemen, if you don't mind this is one visit that I would like to make unaccompanied," James replied smoothly. "So if you will excuse me." Then, he turned his back on their surprised faces and knocked politely before he entered and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Wendy had been kneeling by her wardrobe, studying the strange object that she had stowed in one of the bottom drawers when she was startled by the knocking at her door. Quickly, she stuffed the item back into the drawer and stood up to see who her visitor was.

"James!" she cried happily when she saw him.

"Hello, Wendy," he answered, a smile spreading across his face. He stood straight and tall as she walked toward him, not making a move toward her until she was standing right in front of him. Then, he grabbed her and hugged her tightly against his chest as he exclaimed. "I thought I'd never see you after that summer in Wales! After I heard about your family, I wondered what would happen to you." Here, he released her and held her at arm's length away from him. "But it appears you've been doing very well since then." He added with a small smile as he glanced around her elaborate dressing room, where nearly every inch was covered with vases of blooming flowers. Looking down at Wendy again, he said, "I'm sure you're tired of hearing this but I allow me to congratulate you on an excellent performance!"

Wendy smiled at his praise but it was only a small, polite smile. "Thank you, James. It's so wonderful to see you again!"

"It is the same for me, Wendy," he replied. "And such a debut as your performance and our reunion deserves a celebration! Come, we shall go to dinner and you will tell me how you learned to sing so beautifully. My parents would love to see you again. Wait here and I'll go tell them to order the carriage."

"No, James, I—I can't," said Wendy suddenly. "I don't think my teacher would like it."

"_Teacher_?!" James scoffed. "With a voice like yours, you don't need a teacher, Wendy! Especially one who forbids you from going out at night."

"He is very adamant that I get plenty of sleep, especially after a performance," she explained.

James rolled his eyes. "Well, I am sure you can escape for night. Besides, you will be with me and I shall see that you get back at a decent time. Now, wait here, I shan't be gone more two minutes!" He was already heading for the door, so Wendy didn't bother to point out that it was very late already and that she could hardly get back at what might have been considered a 'decent' time anyway.

Sighing heavily, Wendy sat down to wait for James to return or her teacher, the phantom to appear. She secretly hoped that it was the latter that arrived first.

* * *

From a secret hiding place known only to him, Peter had watched those that had come and gone from Wendy's room. So of course he had seen the Viscount's son enter and exit and he was instantly perturbed by it. It was so very ironic that on the night that he had planned to reveal himself to her, that another boy had entered her life. But Peter would not allow this new arrival to upset him for long because Wendy had refused his offer to dine with him, meaning that she felt that Peter would visit her that very evening…which was exactly what he was going to do.

Now, he was standing outside her room and in making sure that the_ boy_ (Peter's instant dislike of James, made him not want to even _think_ his name much less refer to him by it) did not disturb them, Peter turned the key silently in the lock, successfully locking it. Smiling devilishly, he slipped the key into his cloak and was about to turn around and present himself to Wendy in his own unique way when a voice hissed.

"Peter! What the devil do you think you're _doing_?!"

Peter pivoted around and was not surprised at all to see Slightly glaring back at him from behind a thick curtain.

"It's high time that I introduce myself to Wendy, Slightly," he replied calmly. "And I don't want that _boy_ to interrupt us, so I locked the door. It's very simple, really."

"Are you going to take her to Neverland?"

"Of course."

"Peter, you can't! That's called kidnapping!"

Peter chuckled softly. "It's hardly kidnapping, Slightly. I'm not taking her outside of the theater. Besides, I'll have her back safe and sound by morning."

"I could follow you, you know and _make_ you bring her back," Slightly threatened.

Here, Peter laughed again and it was louder this time. "Ha! That's a hollow threat if I ever heard one! If I remember correctly, you did try to follow me to Neverland, Slightly. And what happened? You ended up finding one of my traps and up to your waist in water, was it?" Even in the low light from the lamps, Slightly could see the large grin spreading across his face. "Yes, that was it! Ah, I laughed for a week after that!"

"I'm sure you did," Slightly mumbled, preferring to not remember that embarrassing time.

"So, I think for your own safety it would be best if you did not try to follow us," said Peter. "Now, it is time for me to make my entrance, so if you will excuse me!" Then without another word, he turned and walked down the corridor until he was swallowed up by the darkness.

* * *

James had not yet returned and Wendy waited anxiously. But while she waited, fatigue wrapped around her like a blanket and she felt her involuntarily begin to close and before she could stop herself, she had fallen asleep, her chin on her chest.

From his new hiding place behind her mirror, Peter could help but smile at this. He had hoped she would fall asleep because he wanted his entrance to be a surprise and it would also give him time to find his shadow.

He gripped the edge of the glass with his fingertips and pulled it slowly back. It slid easily and silently on its track, making no more noise than a whisper in the dark. When it was open wide enough for both of them to pass through, Peter took a deep breath and boldly stepped into her room.

Once inside, his eyes flicked over to Wendy where he noted with relief that she was fast asleep. Then, he turned away from her to face her wardrobe which he felt was the most logical place to hide such a thing as a person's shadow. Striding over to it, he crouched down, opened one of the bottom drawers and promptly gave a soft cry of delight.

There it was! A little crumpled perhaps but still completely intact. His very own shadow! Peter reached in to take it out but when his fingers brushed against did it shoot out of the drawer and flatten itself on the ceiling. His shadow's sudden escape caused Peter to fall backwards in surprise but when he had gotten over the initial shock, he scrambled to his feet and began to chase it about the room.

He was so intent on catching it that he forgot to be quiet about it and when he managed to grasp out of his shadow's ankle, he pulled it free from where it clung to the wall. Yet he pulled so hard that when his shadow finally came free, he was thrown backwards onto his back and he yelped in pain and surprise.

This, in turn caused Wendy to wake with a start and when she saw the boy lying in a crumpled heap in a corner of her dressing room, she was immediately intrigued as to how he had gotten there.

"Are you all right?" she asked concerned.

His head shot up at the sound of her voice and Wendy gasped softly at the sight of the white mask that covered half of his face.

"It's _you_!" she cried. "You're the phantom!"

"I am," said Peter as he rose clumsily to his feet, having become tangled in his cloak. "I am also your teacher." He added when he was standing and tightly clutching his shadow in his fist.

"Ha! I knew it! I _knew _you were one in the same!" Wendy yelled happily. "Oh, I'm so happy to finally meet you! And I see you've found your shadow!" she added, glancing at the fluttering thing beside him.

"Yes, thank you for keeping it safe for me," said Peter. "It got caught in you mirror when I had to flee more quickly than I thought."

"It got caught in my…_mirror_?"

"Yes." And he strode over to it and showed how easily it could be pushed back to reveal the secret passageway behind it.

"Oh, my, I wonder where that leads," said Wendy, although she felt that she had pretty good idea as to what was at the end of it.

"It leads to Neverland," Peter told her. "My home." He stepped just inside the passageway and then turned to Wendy saying. "Wendy, I believe it is high time that, considering our long relationship that I take to my home and we celebrate your amazing surprise performance from this evening's gala. I feel it is long overdue and I have so many wonderful things to show you! And I'm sure you have many questions to ask of me!" He held out his hand expectantly as he spoke with a small encouraging smile on his lips.

Any fatigue that Wendy had had evaporated instantly at the thought of seeing her teacher's home and talking with him face to face (or as much as she could since he wore a mask) and she eagerly took his hand and stepped through her mirror, allowing him to lead her to wherever it was that he made his home.

**Author's Note: Oh, snap! Cliffy! Ha ha, I'm so mean! I will update as quickly as I can but the next chapter will be much longer (hopefully it all depends on what I want to include or not) but in the meantime please review! They make me so happy!**


	5. Journey Under the Opera

**Author's Note: Hello! Hello! Hello, to my faithful fans of my new crossover! Let my apologize profusely for not updating in so long as I know the last chapter ended with a cliffy. I have been busy with various family gatherings and graduations and I have also taken on a new fanfiction from another author is giving all of theirs away to start a completely new account, so I have been working that new fic as well. But, never fear, I will always find time to update this story and as such, here is the next chapter! It was meant to be a lot longer but I wanted to get it up quickly because of my tardiness in updating. So here is chapter 4, I hope it's not too boring (since it's a lot of traveling) and please review!**

**Disclaimer: The lyrics belong to the brilliant Andrew Lloyd Webber, not me.**

Chapter 4

Journey Under the Opera

"**Let your mind start to journey**

**to a strange new world.**

**Leave all thoughts of the life **

**you knew before.**

**Let your soul take you where you long**

**to be!**

**Only then, can you belong, to me."**

**----from "Music of the Night", Andrew Lloyd Webber**

The first thing that Wendy noticed about the passageway was that it was very dark. True, she was able to make out the stone walls that made it but that was only because of the light that spilled from the opening in her mirror. Beyond that however, there was nothing but darkness.

She gripped her leader's gloved hand even tighter as they walked further down the passage and wondered why he had not installed any type of light. But she figured that, considering his aloofness to both and the rest of the theater that he preferred to the dark and knew the passage to her room by heart anyway.

Soon, the light from her room faded and they were walking in total darkness. Wendy bit her lip as wild thoughts ran through her head of something jumping out at her or her teacher suddenly turning on her and attacking her and other such nonsense that one usually imagines when walking in the dark. He must have sensed her anxiety because he stopped and turned around to face her (or at least she assumed he did) and asked, "Wendy, are you all right? You've been squeezing my hand so hard that I think my fingers are going numb!"

She relaxed her grip a little and said, "I'm sorry but I—I don't want to get lost. I—I've never been in so much darkness before."

"Don't be sorry, Wendy," he assured her. "I've traveled this passageway so many times that I can do with my eyes closed! So I'm used to the darkness, but it's necessary because there is something up ahead that I know you will love. We're almost there, don't worry."

"Alright," said Wendy in a very small voice and she allowed him to lead her onward.

However much time passed, Wendy didn't know but soon her companion warned. "There are some stairs coming up so watch your step, especially in that silly dress of yours."

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Wendy's foot bumped into something hard and cold. She used her other hand to lift up her dress as she clumsily climbed the narrow stone steps. She was concentrating so hard on not tripping and falling that she didn't notice that a dim light was shining up ahead until she reached the top of the stairs.

"Things will get easier from here, but I have something to show you," said her companion once she had caught her breath from climbing.

"What is it?" she asked, noticing for the first time that the area was filled with a strange bluish light.

"Look down here," was the reply as his hand led her to a railing that ran the length of the elevated platform that they were standing on.

Wendy did as she was told and what she saw nearly took her breath away.

On an overhanging shelf below them was a miniature model of London, or at least it was of the wealthier neighborhoods and the center of town. Wendy could make out Buckingham Palace and Parliament Building, each one was so detailed she felt as if she were viewing the city from the sky. She cried out with delight when she spotted the opera house and the rows of houses looked toys from where she stood. A very accurate replica of Kensington Gardens was situated in the far left corner of the display.

The source of the strange bluish light was from the glowing candles which had been placed in tall blue glass holders. The blue light thus gave the impression that it was nighttime and this was confirmed when Wendy looked up to see a perfect white moon painted on the wall in front of her. But it certainly didn't look like a wall thanks to the light but more like a deep blue night sky.

"Do you like it?" asked her teacher softly, breaking into her wide-eyed staring of the miniature.

"Oh, l love it!" Wendy sighed. "It looks exactly like London! Everything is so detailed! Do you know who made it?" she asked him excitedly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Really? Who?"

"Me."

"_You_ made this?!"

"Yes, I did and I'm glad you find it so impressive because I haven't walked the streets of London in seven years. I do remember some things, but Jam---er, Mr. Barrie helped with a lot of it."

Wendy nodded to show she understood. "Well, even so, it is an extraordinary piece of work. You have real talent."

"Thank you, Wendy."

"Er, may I ask why you built it?"

"So I always have a sense of what the outside world looks like because I'm never going back there again. This theater is my home and it always will be," he replied in a low voice. He paused and then added in a much brighter voice. "It also give the effect of flying, don't you think? And flying is the only way to get to Neverland, at least in Mr. Barrie's play." Wendy had no idea what he was talking about and she couldn't ask because it was then that he took her hand again and led her to the end of the walkway. "At the end of this walkway there is a long slide which will take us part of the way to my home. I'll go down first and then you follow me, alright?"

Wendy nodded silently as her teacher got down on the ground and then there was soft _whoosh_ing sound as he slid down the slide.

Leaving Wendy very much alone.

When she felt that enough time had passed for him to reach the end (although she really had no idea) she blindly felt her way to the stone floor. When she was sitting down, she scooted forward until she could feel her feet begin to move down a slight slope. It was so dark that she literally could not anything in front of her except complete blackness. Wendy scooted forward until only her fingers were gripping the edges of the wall beside her, then taking a deep breath, she let go.

She didn't even have time to work up a good scream as her body flew down the spiraling stone slide, her arms were pinned to her sides as she slid further and further into the unknown. When she began to wonder when it would be over, she saw light up ahead and shot out of the opening…and into the arms of the phantom.

"There you are!" he laughed at her white and shocked face. "I thought you were too scared to slide down and I'd have to climb back up and get you myself!"

"I wasn't scared!" Wendy told him weakly. "It was just so…dark." she added with a slight shiver.

Her rescuer chuckled softly. "Girls are always so scared of the dark! Don't worry, Wendy, it only gets brighter from here and since you are a lady and I am a gentlemen, I shall carry you until we reach are next mode of travel."

Wendy was perfectly content with that as she couldn't stop shaking from the adrenaline rush that was the dark slide. So she settled himself comfortably in his arms and took in her surroundings.

The corridor was a sharp contrast to the one that they had previously been traveling on. Every few feet or so, a three pronged candelabra had been placed along each wall. The stone walls had been smoothed of an roughness and ghoulish faces stared at Wendy through black eye sockets, they reminded her a bit of the mask the phantom himself wore. And thanks to the flickering candlelight and the shadows cast upon them, they seemed even more mask like.

They reached the end of the corridor quicker than Wendy expected and when they did, she was lowered slowly and gently to the ground.

"I really was quite capable of walking myself," she told him when she was standing on her own two feet. "There was really no need to carry me."

"I know but I wanted to make up for all of the darkness," said her teacher. "Besides, I was happy to do it." Then, he took her hand and pointed down below him. Wendy looked where he was pointing and saw a long narrow wooden boat sitting in a stream that was just wide enough for it to travel on.

"What kind of boat is this?" she asked as she was helped into it.

"This is a gondola," he replied, "and like the miniature of London, I built it myself."

Wendy shook her head at him. "You are a boy of many talents, then. Many more than I could think."

"Well, I didn't build my home in a day that's for sure," he laughed as he got in beside her and pushed them out onto the stream. "Although, like before, I did have some help from Mr. Barrie and Slightly."

"You know Slightly?" Wendy asked, surprised.

"Of course, he is one of my closest friends and confidant, although he does not know the opera as well as I!"

Wendy giggled. "I don't think anyone knows the opera as well as you!"

"Of course they don't! No one will know it as well as me! I'm the best there ever was!"

Wendy merely rolled her at his obvious cockiness but thankfully he did not see since her back was to him. Then a sudden thought struck her and she asked. "Where's your shadow? I haven't seen it in awhile, it didn't escape again, did it?"

"No, I stuffed it into a larger pocket of my cloak, it's going to be horribly wrinkled but it deserves it for escaping like it did."

"Yes, I suppose it does," Wendy agreed.

The remainder of their ride was spent in silence, yet the only sound was that of the pole that the phantom used to push the boat along. Wendy gasped softly as when they rounded a slight bend, she saw a large gate made up both vertical and horizontal iron bars like that behind a drawbridge. She wondered briefly how they were going to get past when as the little gondola drew near, the gate seemed to sense their presence and rose up immediately to allow them to pass through. Once they had cleared it, it lowered slowly back down behind them with a groan of its invisible gears.

Wendy had watched the gates close behind them so when she turned back around, the sight before her nearly took her breath away as the phantom announced proudly from above her.

"Welcome, Wendy Darling, to Neverland."

**Author's Note: I know, I know, another cliffy! I am so cruel but I had to do it! The next chapter will be up as soon as I am able to write it. **

**The part with the miniature of London is a reference to the Peter Pan's Flight ride at Disney World (a longtime favorite ride of mine) where you "fly" in a pirate ship over London and you can look down and see the houses below. It's really cool! And I included it to make a reference to flying to Neverland like in **_**Peter Pan**_** since Peter and Wendy in this story don't fly there, obviously. The slide part is a reference to the entrance to the House Under the Ground in the 2003 movie. **

**Once again, please review, they make my day!**


	6. Neverland

**Author's Note: Hello, hello, to my dear fans of this story! I am SO SORRY for the delay in updating this. I have been working that other fic that I told you about and I have also been very busy with going on vacation and just general summer busyness. And I thought summer was only for relaxing! Anyway, I hope you can forgive for not updating sooner and so here is chapter 5 in which you will finally get to see what Peter's lair looks like! I hope you like the changes I made and please review!**

**The lyrics belong to Carolyn Leigh, Betty Comden and Adolph Green.**

Chapter 5

Neverland

The first thing Wendy noticed about her teacher's home was that much of it was covered in flowers. There were blooming vases of flowers everywhere! In both large and small ones and there many flowers that she recognized and many that she didn't. Another thing that she noticed was that it was lit by hundreds of candles. There were candles everywhere! Their bright glow was stark (and very welcome) change to the darkness that she had had to endure during the trek to get to this mysterious place called Neverland.

She gazed in awe at it all as her teacher slowed the gondola up to the small dock. Then he stepped out onto the dock, turned to her and held out his hand. Wendy took it eagerly and after he had helped her out of the gondola, he led her onto studier ground.

"What we just rode through is made by all of the drainage water throughout the opera," he explained. "My home is where the water is the most shallow and it reveals the original stone floor. It may not look very large from where we are right now but it is really very deep." Then, to Wendy's surprise, he jerked her closer to him and whispered, "Open up your mind and let your fantasies unwind." Confused by his words, Wendy barely noticed as he pulled her up onto the higher ground of his home. It was only when he had flung off his cloak with an elaborate twirl that she snapped back to reality only to hear him say, "Would you please excuse me for a moment?"

She nodded mutely, knowing that she didn't really have much choice.

With her nod, the phantom retreated into the farther corners of his home and Wendy was left to stand stupidly where he had left her.

While he was gone, Wendy began to study the strange place that she knew that few had ever laid on eyes on, much less made the dark journey to get here.

The lair of the phantom of the opera seemed to consist of one large open room, created by the stone floor of the cavern that she found herself in. She saw that towards the back wall, a series of platforms had been constructed at varying levels and were connected by rope ladders. These, Wendy assumed allowed for more space for other living areas than the large main room could provide.

The reason for this, she soon realized was that it was covered in hundreds of candles and flowers. There were flowers everywhere! More flowers than Wendy had ever seen in one place and there were many that she did not even recognize. Taking a cautious step forward, she began to weave her way through the senseless maze of the blooming vegetation with her eyes nearly popping out of her head. Occasionally, she gave a soft cry of surprise when she found that her teacher had placed various pieces of furniture throughout the endless garden. She found a desk covered with papers and a thick leather notebook, a table and chairs and in another area, an intricately constructed model of the opera's stage, complete with chandelier and curtains. There were even little wooden figurines of each of the actors, including herself, Tiger Lily and Bella. All had painted with the utmost attention to real life and as such, each of them looked incredibility lifelike.

But the detailed figurine of herself was not what caught Wendy's eye, it was a music box that was sitting beside the model of the stage.

It was made of thick wood and on top was carved two more figurines: a boy and a girl, it seemed but the boy had his back to her. Wondering what he looked like as well as wanting to examine it more, Wendy slowly reached her hand forward when….

"Don't!"

The sharp command cut through the silence of the room like a knife and subsequently caused Wendy to leap out of her skin. She yelled out in surprise and pain as a hand smacked her own away from the music box. Clutching her throbbing hand, Wendy looked up to see the phantom glaring even though he was still wearing his white mask.

"Don't touch it!" he yelled at her in a voice that seemed to be both commanding and pleading at once. "It's mine! You mustn't touch it! _Ever_!"

"I—I'm sorry," said Wendy, voice quivering as he continued to glare at her. "It—it was just that I couldn't see part of it and it looked so beautiful."

"Well, maybe that's because you weren't_ supposed_ to see part of it!" the phantom snapped. "Now, come on! You have to sew on my shadow!" With that, he turned on his heel and marched away and Wendy followed timidly behind.

He led her to an area that was on the other side of where she had been exploring. It was a small round place covered in plush green carpeting that looked a lot like grass. What appeared to have been cut into the wall in front of them was an alcove that could be reached by a rope ladder. Although there was a candle glowing inside of it, Wendy couldn't tell what else was inside. What she did see was that a little to the right of the alcove was a twisted piece of wood that looked like an old, gnarled tree and attached to one of the branches, was among all things, a swing.

Before she could ask her strange companion about its presence, he sat down on the ground where he had trapped his shadow by pinning it down with a small basket that was filled with sewing equipment: rolls of different colored thread, needles, thimbles and a large ball with pins sticking out of it which made it look like a small porcupine.

"Although it may seem hard to believe, Wendy but even someone like me who seems to move throughout the theater like a well, _phantom_, I do on occasion, tear my clothes," he explained, noticing Wendy staring at the basket.

"Can your shadow on as well?" she asked rather hesitantly as she feared another outburst.

"No, because when I've lost my shadow before, it usually just molds right back to me."

"You've lost your shadow _before_?! Outside of our lessons?!"

"Yes, I have. Like me, it can be rather mischievous itself at times."

Wendy laughed at that as she leaned over and selected a needle, thimble and black thread to match the shadow out of the basket. "Well, then, I shall be sure to sew on nice and tight so it doesn't escape again!" she promised.

"I would appreciate that very much."

When she was ready to begin, she warned him. "This may hurt a little."

"I shan't cry!" he declared, though he did wince slightly when she stuck the needle into his foot to make the first stitch.

While she worked, a question that she had not asked her teacher yet, occurred to her and she wondered how she could have forgotten to ask it as it was the most logical one of all.

"Do you, er have a name?" she asked, feeling extremely stupid.

"I do," he replied, "although I am rather fond of being known only as the 'phantom of the opera'."

"Will you tell it to me?"

"Yes, but only when I can introduce myself properly."

Wendy nodded as she made the last few stitches and then tied the remained thread in a secure knot. "There!" she exclaimed proudly when she had finished. "I think that will hold it!"

He got slowly to his feet and once Wendy had risen as well, he promptly bowed to her and said, "My name is Peter Pan."

"Is that all?" Wendy asked.

"Yes," he replied as he straightened up.

"It's a very short name."

"I suppose so."

"Yet, somehow it suits you," she added with a giggle. "I've waited a long time to meet you and talk to you when you're not confined to teaching me through your shadow. It's wonderful to meet you." She added sincerely.

Here, he raised a hand to his lips and said, "It is equally wonderful to finally meet and talk to you as well, my dear lady." He kissed her hand as he spoke causing Wendy to giggle girlishly again.

When he lowered her hand, he immediately turned and began leaping about, testing his shadow. "It seems to be cooperating well enough," he commented as he moved about. "Oh, look, Wendy!" he cried suddenly as the shadow appeared on the wall in front of him. "My shadow! My very own shadow! Oh, the cleverness of me!"

"Of course,_ I_ did nothing," said Wendy, rolling her eyes. "You're conceited!"

"Conceited?" Peter repeated. "Not me! It's just that I am what I am…and I'm me!"

"Well, since I am apparently of no use to you now, I shall just leave," Wendy declared. She was only acting of course and had absolutely no intention of leaving this strange place, but her theatrics were lost on Peter, who didn't even realize that his tutelage was making itself known now in his pupil.

With her 'decision' to leave, Wendy turned and sauntered away only to be grabbed a moment later by a terrified Peter who cried, "Wendy, wait! Please, don't go, I have so much to show you! I'm sorry for being so rude, but you see when I get so pleased with myself, I tend to become very conceited. You did an excellent job sewing my shadow back on! Please, don't leave yet Please!"

He stared so imploringly at her that she couldn't help but laugh at how much he had believed her acting. "Oh, Peter, I was only playing with you! Leaving is the last thing I would do right now!" she assured him. "My, your teaching must have be very good if it can fool even you!"

At her words, Peter relaxed and nodded in agreement. "Why, of course, Wendy, no one could teach you as well as me!" Then as they walked back to the little clearing, he added, "I'm very glad you decided not to leave."

When they arrived back at their original spot, Peter seated himself on the swing and began to pump his legs a little so he only rose a few inches off of the ground. Wendy seated herself on the ground to watch him. It was then that she was fully able to take in his appearance.

He had replaced his black ensemble and cloak for a pair of light brown pants, moccasins and a simple white shirt which matched the white mask that covered part of his face. Peering out of that mask was a pair of the clearest sky blue eyes that Wendy had ever seen. They reminded her of summertime and youthfulness and strangely when he was wearing these new and more casual clothes, Peter looked younger than he actually was. His hair, which was dirty blonde and severely tousled, added to this look.

The only sound that broke the contented silence was the creaking of the swing as Peter swung back and forth. Finally, wanting to start some sort of conversation with her dear yet strange friend, Wendy asked, "Peter, I'll understand if you don't want to answer this question, but what song does your music box play?"

His feet swished against the carpet as he dragged them across it in order to slow down his swing. When he stopped, he replied, "It plays a lullaby. I like to think of it my lullaby because I don't think it has ever been written down."

"May I hear it?" Wendy asked hesitantly.

In reply, Peter sighed heavily and began to rock back and forth on the swing as his eyes slowly began to cloud over with memory. Wendy waited patiently, wondering if she had upset him at all when he began to sing in a soft yet clear voice:

_Once upon a time and long ago,_

_I heard someone singing,_

_soft and low._

_Now when day is done _

_and night is near,_

_I recall this song, I used to hear._

_My child, my very own,_

_don't be afraid_

_you're not alone,_

_sleep until the dawn_

_for all is well._

_Long ago this song_

_was sung to me,_

_now it's just a distant melody._

_Somewhere from the past, _

_I used to know_

_once upon a time _

_and long ago._

His voice would have certainly never allowed him into an opera but Wendy didn't care, It was such a sweet and simple lullaby that her heart went out to him. To her, the song spoke of loneliness and of happy times long forgotten and she wondered what had made him have his music box play such a song. There was definitely much more to Peter, the phantom than she knew about but she didn't think it would be at all appropriate to ask him about it now.

"Peter," Wendy breathed, when he blinked rapidly, signaling that he was returning to the present. "That was absolutely _beautiful_."

Peter smiled sadly. "Thank you, Wendy. I think that my mother used to sing me that song before I fell asleep but I can't really know for sure because I—I don't really remember her."

Wendy smiled. "It sounds like just the kind of song a mother would sing to her child." She paused to remember her own mother who had died when she was so young. She thought so deeply of her that she felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes but thankfully, Peter interrupted her from reminiscing anymore when he asked, softly. "Wendy, will you tell me a story?"

She hastily wiped at her eyes and replied. "Nothing would make me happier, Peter."

**Author's Note: Well, what do you think? Sorry for the slight cliffy after such a long delay! The lullaby that Peter sings is actually from the Peter Pan musical and the song is called, "Distant Melody". I thought it would be appropriate to include that song from that musical considering that this is a crossover with another musical.**

**Oh, you may have noticed that I took out the bride part because even in the movie I thought that part was so weird and creepy and especially for someone like Peter.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and please review!**


	7. Above and Below

**Author's Note: A hundred apologies for the lapse in updating! According to kasmira36 it has been ten (now eleven, I guess) since I last updated this story, which to me really doesn't seem like that long since there are some people on here who haven't updated in months (hint hint Leigh A. Sumpter) so really I think I'm doing pretty good with updating. But I am sorry for not updating sooner, I've focusing on working on another fic in another archive which I am actually considering making a crossover with Peter Pan, the archive subject I mean. **

**So anyway, here is chapter 6, sorry for the long wait and please review!**

Chapter 6

Above and Below

She ended up telling him the story of Snow White, figuring that he would like it because it featured someone who was hidden away from the world. To her delight, Peter enjoyed it very much and listened with rapt attention throughout its entirety. When she finished, she was taken aback when Peter leapt to his feet and hugged her as he cried happily, "Oh, Wendy, thank you! That was a wonderful story!"

"I—I'm glad you liked it, Peter," said Wendy, trying to compose herself after his unexpected embrace as he released her.

"Yes, I liked it very much, especially since it had a happy ending. I think every story should have a happy ending, don't you?" he questioned her eagerly.

"Yes, but that's only in made up stories, Peter," said Wendy solemnly.

Peter's happy smile faded and he nodded in agreement. "Yes, Wendy, I know and that's why I decided to bring you here in the first place. I—I needed to escape for a little bit, more so than I am able to here, in my home that is from away from the outside world."

Moved by the sadness and loneliness in his tone, Wendy reached out to touch his arm in comfort but he recoiled away from her before her fingertips could even brush against him. "Don't touch me!" he yelled at her. "No one must _ever_ touch me!"

Wendy raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Why not?"

"Because…because I must not be touched," Peter snapped firmly.

"Alright," said Wendy, even though she felt that his answer was not a very good one. "I'm sorry, it's just that you looked so sad…and lonely."

Peter said nothing reply to this as he turned away from her to resume his place on the swing. Silence followed as he began to swing but only high that his feet skimmed over the soft ground. Finally, he said quietly. "Yes, sadness and loneliness are two things that I am well acquainted with."

Wendy said nothing in response to this because there was nothing that she felt would be appropriate without asking further questions or having him snap at her again. But her heart went out to him as she watched him swing. When the silence was broken again, it was Peter once again who broke it by saying. "I suspect, Wendy that you are very tired from your performance and especially with the added excitement of seeing my home. If you wish, you may sleep in my bed up in the alcove. It is only proper, considering that you are a lady after all."

Wendy nodded mutely and realized that she was very tired and she could do with a few hours of sleep. Besides, it appeared that Peter was done talking to her for awhile. So while he continued to stare down at his feet as he swung on his swing, she climbed clumsily up the rope ladder and without even pausing to glance around the alcove, she collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.

* * *

High above them in the theater itself, Tiger Lily used the key that Wendy had given her to unlock her dressing room door. Considering the lateness of the hour, she was rather concerned for her friend that she had not returned to the dormitories yet or at least to her where she was going if she were to be out late. The last Tiger Lily had seen of Wendy, she had been with the Viscount and she was certain that she was still with him but being the loyal friend that she was; she wanted to check just to be sure.

Such was her surprise when she discovered that the dressing room was dark and empty. Surely the Viscount would understand how tired she would be after a performance and not keep her out all night, would he? Tiger Lily thought to herself. He had seemed very kind when she had met him for such a brief amount of time and she knew that he would bring no harm to Wendy.

Yet her surprise and confusion was heightened even more when Tiger Lily saw an opening in one wall and she realized that it was in the same spot where Wendy's full length mirror was.

The mirror hid a secret passage!

Now her surprise and confusion was replaced by excitement and an immense curiosity to find out where that passage led so she stepped eagerly up into the dark entrance.

Yet her eagerness to explore so faded as she realized how truly dark the passage was, but she decided to press on albeit slowly and cautiously because Tiger Lily had made a vow to herself that she would try and become as fearless as her friend, Wendy one day, who at least to the girl, never seemed to be afraid of anything.

But fearlessness that she had managed to sustain inside herself vanished instantly when she squealed in fright as a large rat skittered across her path. She watched it disappear into the darkness beyond and was about to take another, even more cautious step forward when a hand was clapped over her mouth, stifling her scream of surprise. Then, before she could even protest, her captor dragged her out of the passage and back into Wendy's dressing room whereupon she was released and turned around to find…

"Slightly!" Tiger Lily cried instantly at the sight of him. "Why did you do that?!"

"Really, my dear Lily do you think you could've made down the passage all by yourself?" Slightly asked with an amused smile.

"Yes, I am not scared of the dark…just of rats and other such evil rodents."

Slightly chuckled as he stepped around her and slid Wendy's mirror shut. "You have nothing to fear of them, if you don't bother them, they won't bother you. It's the thing at the other end of the passage that you should worry about."

Tiger Lily stared at him. "You don't mean….you _can't_ mean…Wendy has been kidnapped…by the_ phantom_?!"

"It would seem so," said Slightly as calmly as he could. "I've spoken to the Viscount and she is not with him."

"Well, then we must rescue her!" Tiger Lily declared. She was becoming rather annoyed that the boy could seem so calm when her friend was in the clutches of such a person who would make backdrops fall on people.

Slightly shook his head. "No, I have spoken to the phantom on more than one occasion and it would not be wise for us to go and find her. No, he will return her to us on his own terms, I can assure you."

Tiger Lily sighed in defeat. "Alright, Slightly, well if you're sure that she's not in any danger…"

"She isn't, I promise you," Slightly assured her. I had it straight from his mouth, he added to himself.

"Well, then I suppose I will go back to my room then," Tiger Lily decided.

"An excellent decision and please allow me to escort you there," said Slightly courteously as he offered her his arm.

Tiger Lily only giggled as she accepted it and together they walked out of Wendy's room and back to their own.

* * *

When the pair arrived back at their dormitory, they found that many of the actors, most notably Tiger Lily's fellow dancers were still awake and were listening as the stagehand, Mr. Smee told them stories of the phantom of the opera. She and Slightly stood by the doorway, listening and unnoticed.

"We all know the tricks the ghost plays on us while you all are rehearsing and I am working above," he was saying. "But, have any of you ever laid eyes on him?...No? Ah, that is a good thing because to look the phantom in the eye is to see Death himself!" he cried dramatically, causing many of the girls to shudder at the thought.

"Only one person as seen him and lived," Mr. Smee continued, smiling in satisfaction at the reaction of his audience. "And that person is me!"

"What does he look like?!" cried one young dancer.

"Ah, well you see, a white mask usually covers his face because his face is horribly scarred from selling his soul to the Devil," Mr. Smee explained. "But on this occasion I was able to glimpse his face and that part that was marred was yellow like parchment and his eyes burned red like the fiery coals of hell!" He ended in a growl and lunged out at the girls, causing many of them to scream softly in fright.

"And," Mr. Smee continued as he smiled widely at their alarm, "if you're not careful and walk about the theater at night, he may catch with his magic lasso!" And from behind his back he produced a noose that he slipped around one girl's neck. "Once he does that, he will drag down to his liar which is like being dragged into hell itself and collect your sweet virgin blood!" he ended with a wicked cackle as many of the girls clung to each other in fear.

"That is quite enough, Mr. Smee!" Slightly called loudly as he marched into the room with Tiger Lily clinging to his arm. "You haven't seen the phantom anymore than I have and your stories of his lair like hell and 'selling his soul to the Devil' are utter fictions, sir and you know it! Learn to hold your tongue, man!"

Mr. Smee chuckled as he got to his feet while Slightly slipped the noose off of the young dance. "You can't tell me what to do, you're just a boy!"

"That may be, but Mr. Barrie left me in his place while Firmin and Andre run the theater," said Slightly firmly. "and considering that they are not present at the moment, you will take orders from me! Now, be gone with you! This is the girls' dormitory after all!"

The stagehand glared at Slightly for a moment before he brushed past him. But before he left completely, Slightly called out, "I would stop making up stories about him as well! But if you refuse, you best keep your hand at the level of your eyes!"

Nothing but silence met his cautioning words.

* * *

Back in Neverland, Wendy stirred on Peter's bed and opened her eyes. She was a bit shocked at first to find herself in what was definitely not her room until she remembered her journey down under the opera with the phantom, whom she now recalled was known as Peter Pan.

Suddenly very awake and wanting to see him again, Wendy got up from the bed and tried to fix her hair as best as she could. When she reached the rope ladder to climb down, she found him already waiting to help her.

"Good morning, Wendy!" he said cheerfully as he lifted her into his arms. "Or rather, good evening, I suppose is the correct term, considering that it _is_ still evening."

Wendy smiled at him. "Good evening to you too, Peter."

"Did you have a good sleep?" He asked as he set her gently on the ground.

"Yes, thank you and I could've managed the rope ladder by myself, you know."

"Yes, but I would've felt absolutely horrible if you had fallen," he told her. "So it was very good form and only proper for me to help you down as I did."

"Well, thank you very much just the same."

"You are quite welcome, Wendy." There was a short pause between them, during which neither of them knew exactly what to say until Peter said, rather apologetically. "Wendy, I want you to know that I've been waiting to show you my home for an awfully long time and I'm so glad that you enjoyed it as much as you did and that you told me such a wonderful story. But, I think it's time I returned you to the theater because it is very late by now and you need to get some more proper sleep than you already have."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Peter," Wendy agreed sadly.

"I also have some very important letters to write to those two fools who run my theater and I don't want you to be reading them before they read them!" he added as they walked back toward the small dock where the gondola was moored.

"I understand, Peter, but I will see you again, won't I?"

At her question, Peter stopped and brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it. When he lowered it, he said, "That, Wendy, is something that you can most definitely count on."

**Author's Note: Hope that wasn't too boring (or short) for you! Once again, please review and I will update when I can!**


	8. Letters and Il Muto

**Author's Note: Hello again, loyal fans! I honestly don't have a good reason for the lateness of this chapter, just general summer busy-ness I guess. Well here is chapter 7 which contains the 'letters' part of the movie as well as the first of the **_**Il Muto**_** part. Hope you enjoy and please review!**

Chapter 7

Letters and Il Muto

The London streets shone with bright yellow sunlight the next morning while the sky was the clearest blue than any of the citizens had seen a great many weeks. But the pleasantness of the morning was lost on Richard Firmin as he sprinted toward the gleaming opera house with the morning edition of The London Times tucked under one arm.

The harried theater manager was in such a hurry to see his partner that he nearly ran into the man himself as he stood anxiously in the spacious entryway.

"Good God, man, what's gotten into you?!" cried Andre as he grabbed hold of the wheezing Firmin.

"What's gotten into me, Andre, you ask?!" Firmin exclaimed just as loudly. "My dear partner, we will surely be in ruins! First the exit of Miss Guicedilli, our main star and now…well, just look at the headline!" And he nearly shoved the paper under Andre's nose as he took the paper from him and read aloud, " 'Mystery After Gala Night with Ballerina's Disappearance'. How the devil did they find out about it?!" He yelled as he handed the paper back to Firmin. "And still there's been no sign of her!"

"Well, at least the all of the seats are sold old," Firmin pointed out as the two men began to climb the sweeping staircase. "So we not completely ruined."

"But we have no cast!" Andre exclaimed, his voice echoing around the cavernous room. "And, look what was on my desk this morning!" And like Firmin had done with the newspaper, Andre brandished a pearl white card in front of the other man's face. "It's a message from_ him_!"

"Yes, I received one as well," said Firmin.

"What does yours say?"

Here, Firmin paused to pull out his own message from his pocket and read aloud, " 'Dear Firmin, what a delightful gala. Your decision to replace Miss Guidicelli with Miss Darling was an excellent and I may say, much more enjoyable one. I'm sure the other members of the audience would certainly agree with me. Now, just a brief reminder that my salary has not been paid. Send it care of Nico by return of post. PTO. No one, especially those who are responsible of my theater likes a debtor so it would be in the best interests of you and your partner that my orders are obeyed.' "

"The nerve of him!" cried Andre when Firmin had finished reading. "What a funny apparition to be wanting _our_ hard earned money! What exactly has he done to deserve it?!"

"We'll just have to keep refusing to pay him that ridiculous amount and maybe then he will see exactly who is in charge." Firmin declared as he stuffed the note back into his pocket.

Before the two men could continue their complaining, the voice of the Viscount's son cut across the entryway. "Where is she?!"

"Who?" asked Firmin as James Hooke marched up to them, looking both angry and worried.

"Miss Darling of course! Where is she? I invited her to dinner last night and when I returned after my carriage had arrived she was _gone_! _And_ her door was locked from the outside!" cried the young man.

"How should we know?" Firmin asked. "We didn't see her at all last night after the gala."

"Then, why did you send this letter!" cried James, as he pulled a card out of his coat that was identical to Firmin's. " 'Do not fear for Miss Darling's safety,' " James read aloud, " 'The Angel of the Opera has her under his wing. Make no attempt to see her again.' " When he had finished reading, he glared at the two managers. "Well? What do you make of that?"

"We certainly did not send you that!" Andre assured him. "This 'angel' that is mentioned is obviously the phantom for he is certainly no angel to bombard us with such messages."

Yet before any of them could wonder any further about the phantom's messages, a second voice shirked across the entryway. "WHERE IS HE?!" And all three of them looked up to see the young star, Bella Guidicelli storming toward them, trailed by one of her many servants.

"You!" she snarled at James, jabbing a finger at him. "How _dare_ you send me this letter! Never have I felt so insulted!"

"Miss Bella, please let me assure that I did not send you a letter, insulting or otherwise," James told her. "The managers and I have also received mysterious letters and we have concluded that the phantom has sent them, trying to manipulate us into the actions he desires."

Bella raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Well, that certainly makes sense. If that is the case then he wants that silly ballerina, Wendy Darling to replace _me_ in the next opera!"

"He _WHAT_?!" exclaimed Firmin and Andre in unison. They snatched up the letter that Bella handed them and both read it silently to themselves.

"What does he mean 'a great misfortune will be befall you'?" Andre wondered when he had finished reading.

"He's probably just trying to scare us," Firmin muttered to him. Then, wordlessly he handed the letter back to Bella as the little party began to climb the stairs, discussing what was to be done about Wendy's disappearance.

"You need not fear for Miss Darling's safety," said a new voice as they all neared the landing. Four pairs of eyes moved simultaneously upward to see Slightly and Tiger Lily waiting for them.

"And why not?" Firmin demanded.

"She has already returned," Slightly replied smoothly. "She's in her dressing room now and no one will see her. It is best she is alone and rested in order to prepare for _Il Muto_." He paused and then addressed Firmin and Andre in grave tone. "As you may remember gentlemen, Mr. Barrie assigned me to help you should any problems arise as you take on the great task that is managing the opera house. So please, here my advice from someone who knows the phantom's ways. It would not be wise to ignore his requests, for the Angel sees, the Angels knows." He finished mysteriously and then without another word, he turned on his heel and sauntered away.

* * *

Despite Slightly's warning, the managers decided to fully ignore Peter's messages in order to show_ exactly _who was in charge. They sold Box Five to James Hooke for the performance and cast Bella as the Countess and Wendy as the pageboy. Rehearsals progressed smoothly throughout the next week with no accidents or any further messages. In fact in order to make up for what happened during the _Hannibal_ rehearsal, the managers spent much of their time doting on Bella and making her feel (as she often did) that the world revolved around her. Wendy steered clear of all three of them and could only roll her eyes at all the attention. It was so like Bella to enjoy such fussing over her.

Although Wendy was happy to be back doing what she loved, she couldn't help but wish for a midnight visit from Peter. She had loved talking to him and his demeanor down in Neverland was so different from how he portrayed himself as the resident ghost of the theater and she felt a little privileged at experiencing that side of him.

Nevertheless, she did not see any sign of him and by the time opening night arrived, she hoped that he would not go through with his plans to disrupt the performance. She was perfectly content in her role (it was one of the few times where it was perfectly acceptable for her to wear pants in public) and privately felt that Bella was much more suited in the role of the Countess.

But she supposed that she would just have to wait and see.

* * *

The theater had a full house on the opening night _Il Muto_. Firmin and Andre were overjoyed by the turnout as well as that the phantom had not disrupted any of their rehearsals. They were so assured by this that they were confident that he would maintain some decency and cause anything to 'occur' during the first performance.

Backstage was abuzz with nervous excitement as the actors did last minute checkups on their costumes and make up and scurried into their places. Everyone was too busy to notice the black figure that observed them from above, although they wouldn't have seen him anyway if they had wanted to as he was shrouded in shadow.

Peter was not pleased with how things had gone. Really, his requests had been very simple and straightforward ones. Why did the managers have to be so difficult? By refusing his requests, they were asking for trouble and Peter was more than willing to give it to them.

The only question was how was he going to do it?

As he continued to watch the scramble below, he noticed a maid carrying a bottle of dark red liquid. It looked like an oversized bottle of perfume. Not entirely sure what it was, but knowing that it had to belong to Bella, Peter swooped silently down from the rafters and snatched up the bottle. Once he had done his dirty deed, he returned to his post to watch the show, smiling mischievously to himself.

Even though he did not necessarily care for Bella Guidelli whether it was on stage or in person, James Hooke had to admit that the girl was talented, especially for such a young age and he had to admit that it had been a wise decision to cast her in the lead role. Surely the phantom did not know true talent when he saw it! From his seat high up in Box Five, he was able to clearly see and hear everything that was going on below him on stage and this included the fair Wendy, whom he only had eyes for. He eagerly pointed her out to his parents who sat behind when she appeared and was delighted that they remembered her as fondly as he did. With a giddy smile plastered across his face as he stared down at her, James told himself that he would do whatever it took to see her after the performance.

James might have been enjoying the show, but Peter certainly wasn't and the fact that this high society boy had taken_ his_ own private box irked him greatly. His neck had become strained at his first post so now he was standing behind the stage entirely, listening through a vent. Although the music came through clear enough, he could see the one person whom he desperately wanted to see: Wendy.

It was time to give the managers a piece of his mind.

* * *

Onstage, Bella was performing the end of one her lines which she was holding out beyond necessity…or it seemed human capacity. Wendy was beginning to wonder when it would end before Bella caused the destruction of the great chandelier hanging above them when a voice boomed around the entire room, causing Bella to stop singing with an abrupt shriek.

"Did I _NOT_ instruct that Box Five was to be kept _EMPTY_?!"

There was a beat of silence as the hundreds gathered waited with bated breath for phantom to continue and when he did not, they instantly erupted into concerned murmurings.

"He's here!" Tiger Lily hissed to Wendy. "He's back again!"

"Of course he has," said Wendy as she scanned the ceiling for any sign of Peter and saw none. She glanced at the managers and saw that they too, were scanning the ceiling and upper balconies for him as well.

But no one caught sight of Peter, for he was well hidden just behind the chandelier on a catwalk that ran around ceiling. The catwalk assisted the crew in getting to other areas of the theater instead of going up and down stairs countless times. He couldn't help but smile as the audience continued to talk amongst themselves. His smile widened even more when he saw Bella walk offstage and no doubt receive a squirt of her special mouth spray. With his trick set in motion, Peter swept through a door neatly concealed in the wall with matching paint and returned to his post in the rafters to watch whatever was to unfold.

**Author's Note: I know, I know! It's so mean of me to end with a slight cliffy like I did, but I wanted to get this up as soon as possible because this week is going to be very busy for me. I'm sorry to say but this is going to be last update for a couple of days because I am going to Washington DC for a few days, so although I may be able to write some over my trip, I won't be able to update. So I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review!**


	9. On the Rooftop

**Author's Note: Well, I'm back from my vacation in DC (had an absolutely awesome time and I really want to go back!) and as promised here is the (I'm sure) much awaited chapter 9 which took me forever to write but I hope it will be worth. This chapter contains the second of the Il Muto part such as the hanging of the stagehand and the rooftop or 'All I Ask of You' scene in which you will see many changes from the one in the movie.**

**So I REALLY hope you like it, I worked hard on this chapter and please review!**

Chapter 9

On the Rooftop

As Peter had suspected, Bella had indeed exited the stage during the unexpected disruption to receive her special spray. She swore that it helped keep her voice in mint condition; Wendy of course, had her doubts.

Nevertheless, when she returned she immediately took control of the situation on stage by ordering the actors back to their places and signaling for the maestro to continue.

The opera progressed smoothly after that until it was time for Bella to sing again.

She had not even made it through the first note before she began to cough and gag, clutching at her throat. Two of her fellow performers helped her off of the stage while an alarmed Firmin and Andre rushed from their private box to further assist her.

Since it was apparent that the performance was halted yet again, Wendy and Tiger Lily hurried off of the stage to hear how the performance was to continue.

A small crowd had gathered around the managers and their young star, who had stopped coughing yet whose face was bright red with the effort of it and general anger at the situation.

"Someone tampered with my spray!" she cried. "Someone put salt in it to make me cough!"

"How?" Wendy asked. "You were able to talk when you got back on stage."

"It was a little bit of salt yet it was effective in its intent," Slightly said, suddenly appearing across from her where he was examining the bottle.

"Indeed it was!" Bella shrieked more loudly than was necessary. "My beautiful singing voice is _ruined_!"

"Although, that's not such a tragedy for those who have to listen to it," Tiger Lily murmured to Wendy while Bella exploded into hysterical sobs.

It was clear to everyone even to Firmin and Andre who the culprit was behind the tampering but no one would admit it to Bella unless they wished to be subjected to her wrath. So, forced to give to the phantom's wishes, they made Wendy take on Bella's role and while she was whisked off to change into her new costume, the managers announced that the opera would continue with the ballet in the third act.

Now that the role had filled, Firmin and Andre were confident that no other mishaps would follow from their rather demanding apparition.

How very wrong they were.

True, Peter was very pleased that Wendy had replaced Bella, as he had intended her to all along and he too was confident that he would enjoy the rest of the performance from the rafters but there was the matter of his salary and the fact that they had given away his _own box seat_ twice, irked him greatly. He knew he had to find some way to force the stubborn managers to listen to his very simple requests.

He had to make some disaster happen.

But the main question was, what would that be?

The answer came staggering toward him not a minute later.

It was the stagehand, Mr. Smee whom he knew (thanks to Slightly) told largely fabricated stories about his 'devil like' appearance. While Peter was never one to turn down a good story, especially if it was about him, but to say such horrid untrue things about him was going too far, especially since they reminded him of his particularly horrid past.

Something needed to be done about the man certainly but Peter, always being one to show good form, felt he needed more of an excuse. So he decided to turn his attention away from the ballet below and instead turned his full attention to the stagehand.

It was clear to him instantly that Smee was a tad intoxicated since he was having a trouble finding his footing on the catwalk and the fact that he did not notice Peter standing not six feet away from him. Although this may have been because he was too busy staring greedily down at the twirling girls below. Peter saw a look on his face that despite his obvious drinking, he got some sort of erotic pleasure from doing so. This didn't bother Peter at first since he knew that many of the other stagehands had done far worse when they had secretly watched the girls undress. What _did_ bother him was when Smee turned toward backstage where he could see Wendy receiving the final touches on her new costume and he sneered at the sight of her.

A mixture of disgust, rage and protectiveness toward Wendy flowed like blood through his veins, boiling thick and hard to ignore. And it was this rush of adrenaline that made him spring into action.

In one simple maneuver he was crouching precariously on the railing of the catwalk in front of Smee and staring him, straight in the eye. "I know who you are," he hissed in his most dangerous voice. "You're the one who tells the stories about me that are nothing but lies! How _dare_ you?!" He finished in a growl.

However drunk Mr. Smee actually was, evaporated instantly along with the color in his face. With his mouth moving wordlessly with his fear, he turned and scampered down the catwalk and Peter followed swiftly behind him.

Halfway through his pursuit, Peter suddenly remembered that Smee would have an easy escape as there was a flight of stairs at the end of the catwalk. So, without even giving his rash decision a second thought, he vaulted over the railing and deftly landed on the other catwalk that ran across the other side of the stage. Wasting no time in pausing to realize what he had done, Peter scuttled to the end of the catwalk and performed the same seemingly impossible feat and landed, just as he intended right in front of the fleeing stagehand.

The man gasped in complete surprise at the sight of Peter, who was now glowering fiercely at him, his eyes burning like an inferno in the dim lights. Before he could even make a move to run, Peter grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and snarled. "You should've remembered to keep your hand at the level of your eyes!" Then from the folds of his cloak, he produced his mythical Punjab lasso which he really only kept for show, but now seemed like more than a good time to put it to use.

* * *

From the left wing of the stage, Wendy watched the ballet. It was one of her favorite parts of _Il Muto_ since it was so sweet and innocent and she was rather sorry that she could not participate in it.

Yet the sweet and innocent scene soon turned to horror as from somewhere above, a man dropped right in the center of the stage, hanging from a noose, his head bent at an awkward angle.

The dancers stopped dancing instantly at the sight of him and the audience stared in complete shock as he swung eerily from the rope.

All was swathed in stunned silence until one of the ballerinas shrieked. "He…He's _DEAD_!"

Wendy felt Tiger Lily grab her arm but the other girl wrenched herself from her grip as she made a quick scan of the rigging, she turned and ran backstage in search of the person that she was sure had been responsible for the horrid sight onstage.

No one saw her abrupt exit as everyone's eyes were locked on the hanged man, no one that is, except James Hooke.

Far back in the darker corners of the backstage area, Wendy called out frantically. "Peter! Peter, come out this instant! I have to talk to you!"

"Yes, my lady?" was the calm reply from somewhere very close in front of her and the unexpected response nearly caused Wendy to skid to a stop. She would've stumbled on the hem of her dress had Peter not grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her.

"Thank you, Peter," Wendy managed to say as she caught her breath.

"You're welcome, Wendy," he replied, his voice coming from the recesses of the dark shadows and that was all Wendy could see, or rather hear of him. "Before you ask your question, please accept this as a congratulations on an excellent performance even though it was not in the role that I, myself would have liked." And a rose appeared out of the shadows and Wendy took it with a small, pleased smiled but it quickly faded as Peter asked, very businesslike. "Now, what is it you wanted to ask me?"

"Did—did you just…_murder_ that man?"

"Yes," was the prompt reply. "And that man was Mr. Smee, a stagehand who told horrible lies about me and had many disgusting thoughts about girls like you. So, I felt I had to take care of him…and I did. Really, the man had it coming to him, Wendy, tis nothing to fret about."

" '_Nothing to fret about'_!" Wendy all but shouted at him. "Peter…you just committed a horrible crime!"

But before Peter could reply to her exclamation, Wendy heard a voice calling her name and it sounded faintly like James's. Not wanting him to find her talking to Peter or to see Peter himself (even though she was fairly certain that Peter would perform one of his 'disappearing acts' before James actually appeared) Wendy whispered hurriedly to him. "I have to go, but I want to continue this conversation later on, Peter!"

Then she turned and ran toward the voice, leaving Peter staring after her.

* * *

As she had done with her confrontation with Peter, Wendy nearly ran into James where he was standing just behind the stage.

"There you are!" He cried when he saw her. "Wendy, why on earth did you run off like that?"

"I'm sorry…it was just the sight of that poor man…" Wendy began but James cut her off with a raise of his hand. "Say no more," he said. "I understand perfectly. I'm still in shock from it as well." Then, he took her gently by the hand and added, "Come, let us go somewhere we can talk where no one will disturb us."

That 'place' ended up being the very rooftop of the opera. Despite the grandeur of the opera house itself, the rooftop was really not as much. At first, Wendy was confused as to why he had chosen such an odd place to talk but then she figured they really couldn't go back to her room without being bombarded by questions and the chaos that no doubt still reined in the main theater itself. In fact, it was quite pleasant out in the open air, albeit a bit cold for autumn. The roof was bathed in bright white moonlight, so that it might have been very romantic out on the roof had Wendy not been so perplexed by the fact that Peter had just killed someone and that he seemed that it was perfectly all right that he had done it.

"Are you sure you're all right, Wendy?" James asked, breaking into her reverie.

"Yes," she replied with a sigh. "I'm just still a bit shaken is all."

"Yes, me too, I hope the perpetrator is found soon."

"Oh, but I know who it is," Wendy said suddenly.

"You _do_?"

"Yes, I was just speaking to him before you called for me. It was the phantom who killed that poor man."

James stared at her and Wendy could see in his eyes that he was debating whether to believe her. Finally he said, "That's impossible, Wendy. There is no phantom of the opera or 'opera ghost' as the managers and Nico seem to think."

"Oh, but there is," Wendy assure him. She was exactly why she was trying to prove the existence of Peter to him when she was quite sure that he didn't want many people to see him as she had. "I've seen him many times and I'm sure he is here now, listening to us."

Even though she had no idea if this was true, it was. Peter had followed the pair up to the rooftop. In fact he had actually beaten them by taking a shortcut and was now crouching in the shadow of a wall, listening and seeing all. His white mask was only thing that might have given away his position, as it glowed like the moon itself where the light struck it but thankfully both James and Wendy were facing away from him and anyway, he was far too clever to allow them to catch him eavesdropping.

Further out on the roof, the conversation continued.

"Well, if he _is_ listening," said James, "I hope he knows that I find him entirely too dangerous for you and your career and it is my intention to protect you from such a creature who murders an innocent man so violently and so brutally."

And then before Wendy (or even Peter) could prepare for what he was going to do next, James had swept Wendy into the circle of his arms and was kissing her…fully on the mouth.

And when Peter saw him hold her like he did and how much he was showing her all that he must feel for her, he could feel his heart turn to ice and begin to break in his very chest since he knew (as he had always known deep inside of himself) that he, being who he was could never show such love for Wendy. This realization caused him to lower his head as a few tears threatened to fall, seen by no one but himself.

Because he was on the verge of crying (and because James had his back to the area where Peter secretly stood) he did not see that although James was kissing Wendy, she was not necessarily kissing him back. She tried to be as courteous as she could by making it seem that she was enjoying the feel of his lips on hers but right when he had appeared in her dressing room, she had only seen him as a long lost childhood friend, nothing more and now that he was kissing her just felt rushed and awkward.

Despite her feelings on the situation, she was forced to drop Peter's rose when James suddenly took hold of her wrist and simultaneously stopped kissing her. Then, without asking whether she wanted to leave or not, he began to lead her back to the door that would take them back inside. It was lucky then that he was focused on getting back inside because he did not see Wendy glance longingly back over her shoulder at the discarded rose and she hoped that her actions had not made the person whom she did actually care for her feel the same as the rose looked if he was indeed listening.

* * *

James and Wendy had disappeared by the time Peter looked up from his hiding place. He had willed himself not to cry but when he saw the rose lying in the snow, he allowed the tears to flow ever so slowly down his cheeks. He stumbled as he made his way over to it, eventually falling to his knees in front of it. He scrunched up his face to prevent more tears from falling but he couldn't help it. He felt so…broken by what Wendy had done.

"I gave you my stories," he whispered to the rose as if it were her. "I taught you to fly on your feet. I helped you through your parents' death! Where was_ he_ then?" he growled at the flower. "I was your friend when you needed someone most and this is how you thank me? By betraying me and my friendship?!" These last words ended in a snarl as he picked up the now limp rose and squeezed it in his grasp as tightly as he had wrapped the rope around that idiot Smee's neck. He barred his teeth at it as the anger and hurt that been bestowed upon him boiled inside of him. Suddenly feeling very empowered, Peter leapt up from the ground and all but flew over to one of the tall stone statues that ringed the rooftop and clawed his way up it like an animal trapped in some deep dark hole and was desperately clawing his way out.

When he was as high as he could get, Peter glared down at the flower still clutched in his fist before he unleashed all his rage, anger, hurt and sadness upon it and viciously ripped every one of its petals off and hurled them into the night sky. Still not satisfied, he dug one of its thorns into his palm as deep as it would go and as the pain settled in, he had a brief flashback of his painful past as he was engulfed in this new and strange pain brought on by his love for Wendy.

Finally the tortured and love starved boy shouted into the calm night.

"You will curse the day you did not do….ALL THAT THE PHANTOM ASKED OF _YOUUUU_!"

**Author's Note: Well, as that for a dramatic ending? I hope no one minded the added subtle self injury bit but, come on the poor boy just had his heart torn in two! That last part where the phantom shouts/sings into the night is also one of my favorite parts in the movie as well. I hope that chapter was satisfactory enough for you after such a long wait, please review, I really want to hear your thoughts on it!**


	10. Return to Neverland

**Author's Note: Oh, dear, looks like I have to beg for forgiveness again since I haven't updated in SO long! I've been working on another fanfic and have even started a new one (I have a bad habit of starting too many projects at once) so I worked on that for awhile before finally heading back to this story.**

**First of all, I'm glad everyone like the last chapter and thanks for the reviews, especially for those who are just starting this story like Olly-Hai and LuckyNumbers…and to answer your question, this story is based on the 2004 movie so the chandelier crash will not take place at the point where you know it does. I have not had the fortune to see the stage play…but I really want to!**

**Anyway, so this chapter veers away slightly from the movie plotline as I felt there were far too few Phantom/Christine moments so here is a nice Peter/Wendy chapter for you all! Enjoy and once again I'm sorry for the long delay and please review!**

Chapter 10

Return to Neverland

The moment Wendy and James had returned from their rooftop exchange, Wendy said her farewell to him as politely as she could and then headed straight to the dormitory. Once there, she paced as quietly as she could beside her bed, fuming. She couldn't believe the rashness of that boy, James Hooke! The same boy whom she had built sandcastles with and hunted for buried treasure in the coves with her and her brothers. Did he honestly think that after all these years, she would want to have a relationship with him again, much less a romantic one? Not that she did not find him kind and pleasant to talk to because she did, but since she had only known him as a friend and as a friend he would remain to her, just as she had told herself up on the roof.

Besides, there was the whole matter of class. She had no money saved since her father had hidden many substantial debts behind his good name and all her parents' savings had been used to pay them off after their deaths. The opera house was all she knew while James, she was sure had hundreds of pounds at his fingertips and most likely more than one house. Why would he ever consider wanting a start a relationship with a penniless orphan?

There was also the possibility that he had had experienced certain 'feelings' for her as a child and could only now act about them, and had only acted as her friend before so that he could confess his true feelings for her at a later time.

_Well, he certainly could've told me what he felt for me instead of saying it so bluntly_, she thought stiffly. The truth of the matter was that she had moved on since her carefree childhood days and did not really care to start any type of relationship with James Hooke, friendly or otherwise.

Peter Pan, on the other hand, was another story entirely.

She felt a smile spread across her face as thoughts of him began to fill her mind. He had, she realized if she wanted to be completely honest with herself, been more of a friend to her than James had ever been. He had supported her through those dark days when she had first come to the opera (in his own strange and elusive way) and had taught her to dance to the best of her ability. And now, their friendship meant enough for him to show her his home under the opera, something that she had felt truly privileged to experience.

And now, that friendship was more than likely destroyed. What with her yelling at him after the death of Mr. Smee and then abruptly leaving with James. She truly did not know if he had been out on the rooftop to witness their kiss, but even if he had, she was sure that their friendship was already in shambles.

Either way, Wendy decided as she undressed for bed, she would seek him out tomorrow and give him her the most heartfelt apology that she could muster.

Since she didn't have any more performances to rehearse for, Wendy had the next three days off and she planned to send each one of them looking for Peter.

* * *

She had originally decided as she drifted off to sleep that night, to get up early and start her search. But the evening's events eventually took its toll her on and she did not get up until nearly eleven o'clock the next morning. When she had finally roused herself out of bed and gotten dressed, she went to find Tiger Lily.

She found her, of all places in the main theater sitting in one of the middle rows on the ground floor with Slightly. They were watching the rehearsal that was already in progress and they were so engrossed in it that it took Wendy several minutes before she got her attention.

"Wendy!" she exclaimed happily when she saw her. "Oh, goodness, are you all right? After that stagehand was killed last night, I didn't see you at all! What happened?"

"I, er I went to find the phantom," Wendy replied, figuring that admitting the truth was the best thing to do, and because she hadn't thought of a good lie.

"The _phantom_?! Why on earth—"

"He obviously killed that stagehand to show the managers how upset he was that I wasn't in the lead role," Wendy interrupted her briskly. "I went to find him to confront him about such a rash and unnecessary action."

"And what did he say to that?" Tiger Lily asked eagerly.

"He apologized for upsetting me, but he felt it was necessary," said Wendy. While Tiger Lily's eyes widened in shock and surprise, she glanced at Slightly to see his reaction, only to discover that he was avoiding her gaze and staring intently down at his knees.

"And what did you say then?" Tiger Lily asked then, forcing Wendy to look away from Slightly's peculiar reaction.

"Nothing," Wendy told her, "because then James found me and took me up onto the roof to talk. So now I have to find the phantom and demand a better explanation." She added hastily before Tiger Lily could ask about what had transpired between her and James, as she didn't really want to talk about it.

"So, how are you going to find him?" Tiger Lily asked instead.

Wendy shrugged. "I don't know, I suppose I shall just start searching every dark corner and see if he is hiding there. I'm probably going to be looking most of the day, so if anyone should ask for me, tell that I've gone into town for the day." She added.

Tiger Lily nodded. "Alright, but shouldn't someone go with you? Confronting someone like that, even if he _is_ your teacher…"

"Don't worry, Lily, I'll be just fine," Wendy assured her, smiling confidently as she finished. Then, after wishing the two of the good day (which Slightly did not even acknowledge) she headed off toward the right wing of the stage in order to get back stage and begin her search.

Or at least, that was what it looked like she was doing. Really, she was heading toward her dressing room where her mirror was a direct passage to Neverland. She could only hope that she would remember how to get there without getting lost in the process.

But just as she reached the hallway that would lead her to her room, a hand grabbed her upper arm and she was pulled abruptly into the shadows. She half expected it to be Peter, but was very surprised to find that it was Slightly…and he was glaring at her, something that he had never done in all the time that Wendy had known him.

"Wendy, what do you think you're _doing_?!" he hissed at her. "After the phantom killed Mr. Smee like that, you _want_ to go _find_ him?!"

"Yes, Slightly," Wendy answered calmly. "He is my teacher after all, and a very dear friend and I believe I may have hurt him very badly."

"No, you haven't," said Slightly in a strange soft voice. "He's already been hurt badly enough. Compared to what he's been through, everything else is trivial."

Wendy stared at him. How did he know about Peter taking her to Neverland? Did he know more about him than she herself did? It seemed so with his reference to some tragic past.

But before she inquire further, a new voice said, "It's all right, Slightly, I have wanted to see her as well." Slightly and Wendy turned in unison and despite the dimness of the hallway, they could clearly make out Peter standing before them, his white mask shining brightly despite the little light. With a smirk at Slightly's stunned face, he crooked a finger at Wendy and then turned to walk down the hallway. Wendy and Slightly shared a parting glance before Wendy set off after Peter.

* * *

He was silent during their entire trek, which Wendy was certain was back to Neverland. And indeed it was, as she was led into darker and darker blackness. Until finally, in what seemed like no time at all, she was sitting once more in the gondola with Peter pushing it along the river.

When they arrived, they stood on the dock surrounded by an uncomfortable silence. Finally Peter said, "In case you haven't already guessed it, Slightly knows many things about me and he and Jamie, are my, shall we say, connection to the world beyond the theater."

Wendy nodded in understanding and said gently, "Peter, I'm not going to ask you about whatever may have happened in your past because it is none of my business, but I do want to apologize for last night for yelling at you and leaving so quickly like that and…and oh, just everything! I'm so sorry, Peter, if I've hurt you at all."

He said nothing in reply and his face was unsettlingly stoic as he looked at her. Then he turned without another word and marched further into his home. Alarmed by his strange reaction, Wendy hurried after him, pleading desperately, "Peter, please tell me what's wrong! Please, did I hurt you more than I thought? And if I did, please tell me what I did so I can apologize properly. Oh, Peter, _please_ don't be mad at me!"

"There's no need to apologize," he said without pausing to face her. "What's done is done."

"What? What do you mean? _What's_ done?" Wendy asked, not understanding in the slightest. "Peter, exactly did I_ do_?!" she nearly yelled at him and she grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to turn around and look at her. And when he did, she let out a soft gasp when she saw that he was glaring at her, just as Slightly had done.

"You kissed that boy, James Hooke," he replied in a dangerously low voice. "You showed him the highest display of affection that anyone can give. _Him_! That filthy rich boy who has probably never known sadness or pain in his life or least not like you or I have." He paused then, seemed to reconsider something and then chuckled softly. "No," he added in an almost whisper. "Even_ you_ have never known pain or sadness like I have." He ended in a growl.

"What do you mean, Peter? What happened to you?" Wendy asked him for what felt like the hundredth time. She was beginning to realize now that Peter was becoming more of a mystery to her than she had originally thought.

As she had somewhat expected, he did not answer her questions but instead turned away from her and sauntered away and Wendy followed timidly behind.

They ended up heading back to where the alcove and swing were and when they arrived, Peter promptly flung off his cloak and sat down on the swing. Wendy settled herself on the grass like carpet nearby and waited patiently for him to speak.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he asked softly. "So, if you didn't kiss him on the roof last night? What happened? Because from where I was standing, it looked very um, romantic."

Wendy snorted in reply. "Romantic? _Really_? It was anything but, I assure you. No, he was the one who kissed me first without giving any sort of warning whatsoever and it was completely unexpected and very unromantic."

"So…you're not in love with him, then?" Peter inquired softly.

"I was barely starting to become from friends with him again," Wendy replied. "And before he showed up at the opera whenever that was, I had barely even thought of him. I had just assumed that he had gone to live his life of wealth and elegance while I came here and---"

"You met me!" Peter filled in, suddenly cheerful.

Wendy smiled. "Yes, I met you." She got up off of the ground then and walked over to where he sat and knelt in front of him, grasping his hands in hers. She was surprised that he did not pull them away from her but didn't let dwell on it for long as she continued. "And you were the best friend that I could have ever asked for and you still are. And, please believe me when I say that I did not mean to hurt you in any way and that what happened on the roof last night was just as shocking to me as it was you but it wasn't what you thought at all. I don't love James, I---" She stopped talking then when she noticed that a bandage was wrapped around his left hand. She held it tenderly in both of her and breathed, "Peter, what _happened_?!"

"Oh," he began, suddenly uncomfortable. "I, um, well after you and James left, I obviously didn't know what I know so I was very…upset by what I thought I had saw and well, I thought you dropped the rose because you didn't care about me and more, so I…stabbed myself with it."

"Oh, Peter!" Wendy cried. "Peter, I'm so sorry! Oh, god, I had no idea! Why didn't you show yourself, then? I could've saved you so much pain."

"I—I don't know," Peter admitted. "I suppose I just thought that you had so many feelings for James that you wouldn't want to see me anymore." As he finished, he lowered his head, ashamed at his actions now that he knew the truth.

"Well, now that you know what happened, I shall reinforce my apology for hurting as awfully as I have," Wendy declared and she really did feel absolutely horrible for hurting him. She had no idea that what he had seen had affected him so deeply.

Peter stared at her then and she was relieved to see that the shadow of a smile was playing on his lips. "It's all right, Wendy, there's no need to apologize anymore and I gratefully accept all of them but thank you telling me what really happened. I am glad that you still consider me as your friend…despite my reputation and lifestyle."

"Of course, Peter," said Wendy, as she got to her feet, pulling him along with her. "How's your hand?"

"Oh, I'll live," said Peter offhandedly. Then he took her hand with his uninjured one and led her back among the flowers, saying, "Now that our friendship is restored, I do have another reason for bringing you here."

"And what's that?"

"You'll see."

* * *

He ended up taking her to the area of Neverland that contained the desk and chair that Wendy had encountered on her first visit. A thick leather notebook rested on top of the desk and Peter released Wendy's hand and picked it up and said, "As you know, Jamie's a playwright and me and Slightly both think he is a very good but not a lot of other people thought so like the critics of his plays. So, he knew he had to change something if he wanted to be considered a success and he decided to write a play about, well me."

"You? As the phantom of this opera?"

"No, he just used my name and my, what he calls, 'youthful spirit'," Peter answered, obviously delighted at such praise. "So, he created this play about a boy named Peter Pan, like me who lives in a place called Neverland….like me and who never wants to grow up…like me! But it's not _all_ about me, Wendy," he assured her, "because, even though I think that would be a wonderful play on its own, there are also mermaids and fairies and I have an enemy named Captain Hook!"

"It sounds very exciting," Wendy told him, "but there must be some reason why it's here with you and not with him."

"Indeed," Peter replied, nodding. "Jamie resigned as manager before he finished it and gave it to me to finish before he comes back in December which is when he wants the premiere to be. Which means," he added, as he grabbed two pens and began striding back through the flowers, "we have a lot of work to do!"

"We?" Wendy repeated, following him.

"Yes,_ we_, after all, two heads are better than one!"

Wendy smiled. "Yes, that_ is_ true."

They walked back at the swing where they sat down together and began to read through the play, one making suggestions to the other and various changes as they went. Wendy didn't know how much time elapsed and she didn't care. She was spending time with Peter, her wonderful and unpredictable (in every sense of the word) friend and she was confident when she felt for both of them that the misunderstanding of what had happened on the rooftop was the farthest thing from both of their minds.

**Author's Note: Well, I hope that wasn't too boring for you and I hope you enjoyed it! Again, I am extremely sorry for the delay and I will hopefully update sooner next time but I will be getting ready to go back to school so I can't promise on that. But either way, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review!**

**PS: I WILL tell you that the next chapter will contain the awesome masquerade scene!**


	11. Masquerade!

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* * *

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Author's Note: FINALLY the next chapter! Wow, I think that's the longest I've taken to update a story. But it's hard when one is writing three fanfics at once…as I am. Nevertheless, I am SO SORRY for neglecting this story for as long as I have! School started up for me again and I have been busy with homework as well as fighting a cold/sinus infection last week. This chapter is also very long as an apology for the long wait, so I wrote it over a number of days as well.

**Anyway, I'm glad so many people like this story with all the favorites/alerts I've gotten as well as late reviews. So, I hope you can forgive me for my severe tardiness. Enjoy the chapter and please review!**

Chapter 11

Masquerade!

"Wendy," Peter announced nearly two hours later, "I do believe that Jamie is going to absolutely _love_ what we've done to his play!"

"I hope so," Wendy sighed as she rubbed at her eyes tiredly. "My eyes are burning from all the reading!"

"Oh, I know he will, it's marvelous! I couldn't have done it without you!" Peter told her sincerely. "Especially since you thought of a much better name for the female lead!"

"That was _you_ who thought of naming it after me, Peter!" Wendy laughed.

"It was? Oh, it was, wasn't it?! Oh, how clever I am!" he grinned cockily, causing Wendy to laugh even harder. When she had calmed down, she said, "But, I feel very honored that you would name her after me, Peter, thank you."

"Why wouldn't I, Wendy?" He asked in reply. "You helped me fix it and finish it and this will give you a chance to have a starring role like you deserve and this one is perfect for you!" He paused and then added, "And, I'm sorry that my plans for you to star in _Il Muto_ did not work out as they should have."

Wendy waved her hand as if to brush his apology aside. "It doesn't matter, Peter. As much as I appreciate it, I honestly don't think I could have adequately preformed the role."

Peter shook his head at her, smiling. "Oh, Wendy, always so modest."

"But it's true! I'm nowhere _near_ Bella's talent!"

"It takes more than just a good set of vocal cords to be truly talented, Wendy," said Peter suddenly serious. And before Wendy could come up with an answer, he carefully closed the notebook that held the much revised play and stood up and stretched and Wendy did the same.

"I think it's time for me to be getting back, Peter," said Wendy sadly. "I'm surprised Tiger Lily hasn't sent out a search party by now."

She waited for him to say something in protest and when he did not she looked at him in surprise where he was climbing back down from his alcove.

"Did you not hear me, Peter?" she asked when he reached the bottom. "I said that I should probably be getting back."

"I heard you, Wendy and I shall gladly lead you back to your dressing room," he replied. "As, like you said, I believe the others will be wondering where you are.

"You're…you're not upset at my leaving like this?"

He cocked his head to one side, confused. "Why should I be, Wendy? I will see you soon enough anyway."

Wendy's eyes widened. "You will?"

Here, he smiled knowingly. "Of course, I must give my managers Jamie's play so they begin to prepare before he returns, mustn't I?"

"Yes…yes, but how---?"

He held up a finger, silencing her. "You will see in a few days, Wendy, don't worry. Now, come on, let us begin our trek back to the light, shall we?" With that, he flung on his cloak and proceeded to lead the way to where the gondola was docked.

* * *

When Wendy returned to the main opera house, she found that the only person who really missed was Tiger Lily who grabbed her the minute she laid eyes on her and crushed her against her petite frame. As Wendy tried to pry herself slowly away from her, she saw Slightly walking towards and she noted that he looked much more relaxed than before.

"See, Slightly, you needn't have worried," said Tiger Lily when she finally let go of Wendy. "Wendy is back and she's perfectly fine!"

"Yes, she is, may I ask what you were doing with him for three hours?" Slightly said.

"I was helping him revise Mr. Barrie's play," Wendy answered. "It's absolutely wonderful and Pe—er, the phantom is very excited about it."

He is? Is he going to give it to the managers soon then?"

"Yes, but he didn't say when, just that he would see me in a few days."

To her surprise, Slightly buried his face in his hands and moaned. "Oh, no, I just know when he's going to deliver it! Oh, dear, Firmin and Andre will be at their wits end if he causes anymore chaos!"

"Which he most likely will," said Tiger Lily, "considering he _is_ the phantom."

"And that's exactly why I have to go talk to him!" cried Slightly and before either of the two girls could say anything more, he ran down the hall that Wendy had encountered Peter previously.

When he was gone, Tiger Lily said, "Do you have the feeling that he knows about something that we don't?"

Wendy nodded. "I do, indeed, Lily, I do indeed."

* * *

They found out what that 'something' was nearly three days later when the managers suddenly appeared on stage halfway through another rehearsal.

"If we could have everyone's attention, we have an important announcement to make," Firmin called out. When all eyes were on the two men, he continued, "My partner and I have been observing how hard everyone has been working over these past few weeks especially after having so shaken by what occurred during our last opera. And so, as reward for such hard work and as a celebration of our opera ghost's defeat, we have decided to host a masquerade ball!"

As the performers exploded into excited murmurs amongst themselves, Wendy walked up to the managers and asked confused, "What makes you think the ghost has been defeated?"

"Why, my dear girl, surely he has been defeated because there has not been a single disruption during any of the rehearsals so he has clearly gotten the message that we will not tolerate any more of his games," Andre told her, his voice overflowing with confidence.

"But what he's only gone because he's planning something much worse than last time?" Wendy asked.

Here, Andre chuckled as if she was a particularly ignorant girl. "My dear, what could possibly be worse that what he has already done? No, I think we have seen the last of the phantom of the opera, don't you worry."

_I'm not worried for me_, Wendy thought to herself as she nodded and smiled to the managers and then walked away. _I'm more worried for what Peter has in store for you when he decides to drop in on your little celebration. _

As soon as Firmin and Andre had said they were planning a masquerade ball, Wendy knew instantly that that was when Peter was going to appear next. It was the perfect setting for him; everyone would be wearing either a black or white mask and if he dressed simply enough, he would be completely unrecognizable.

She could only imagine what kind of entrance he would have.

* * *

The ball was scheduled for a week later, during which Wendy did not even catch so much as a glimpse of Peter's cloaked form. His absence not only perturbed her, but also made her more anxious for the ball.

Finally the seven days passed and it was the night of the masquerade ball and Wendy was standing in front her mirror, admiring her ivory colored dress that swished whenever she moved. She couldn't help feeling a little like Cinderella, getting to ready to go to the ball to meet her handsome prince.

In her hand, she held a white mask that was the closest she could get to the one that Peter wore. She knew that it wasn't required to wear a mask; in fact she had been told by both the managers and James that she had no reason to hide her angelic face. But Wendy wanted to take part in the festivities wholeheartedly, and besides it wasn't as if the mask was overly gaudy, it was plain and simple…like Peter's.

She had just placed the mask on her face when she saw Tiger Lily enter, wearing a dress that was almost like Wendy's except that it was black and promptly exclaimed, "Wendy! Why are you wearing that silly thing?"

"It's called a mask, Lily," Wendy answered calmly. "It is a masquerade ball, after all. Aren't you wearing one?"

"I was, but it was just so itchy," she said. "And yes, that you're wearing it because of the ball, but you're an honored guest! You shouldn't have or need to wear one!"

Wendy sighed heavily. As the new 'rising star' of the theater, she was indeed an honored guest and she was sure that she was going to bombarded by people wanting to speak with her. Only London's most elite had been invited to the ball and it was rumored that the managers had wanted to make the expensive gathering of the year.

"Since everyone seems to despise the idea of me covering my face, I suppose I won't wear it," she said as she slipped off the mask and placed it on a side table. Then, she turned her friend and said, "Come on, Lily, let's go or we'll be late!"

The spacious foyer of the theater was a flurry of black and white as couples twirled their way around it in dizzying circles. Everyone was so caught up in dancing or conversing along the sides of the room that none of them noticed the figure who was quietly observing the event from a darkened corner.

Peter had hoped to catch sight of Wendy before he made his grand entrance but he figured that she would be in the company of James Hooke. Even though he believed Wendy in that she had not and did not want to kiss him that night on the roof, he still despised the other boy, simply because he could well and truly have what Peter could not unless he were to give up his way of life and return to 'normal' society…which he refused to do, no matter what.

So, moments before Wendy and Tiger Lily arrived, Peter slipped away to wait for the opportune moment to crash the managers' extravagant party.

* * *

As soon as Wendy and Tiger Lily stepped into the brightly lit foyer, James was instantly at Wendy's side and was asking her to dance.

"Oh, I'd love to," said Wendy pleasantly enough as she accepted his hand. "Lily, I'm sorry, do you mind?" she asked looking at her friend.

"Of course not, it's a ball, Wendy! Besides, Slight—er, Nico should be around here somewhere." And Wendy noticed that Tiger Lily intentionally avoided her gaze as she raised her eyebrows in surprise and hurried away.

Neither Wendy nor James said anything as they walked out onto the crowed dance floor and began to move along with the other couples. After a few minutes, James said, "I haven't seen you in ages, Wendy, how are you?"

"Taking a much deserved break."

He chuckled. "As you should, after all you've been through. I've been busy myself but I'll admit that I have missed you, Wendy." He finished softly and caressed her cheek with a fingertip. Wendy felt herself inwardly cringe, his finger felt so cold and so unlike Peter's own warm and comforting touch.

They danced in silence after that, during which Wendy couldn't help but steal glances at shadowed corners or the second level where more figures danced, searching for any sign of Peter. She was thoroughly disappointed when she couldn't even catch a glimpse of something that might have been his shadow.

When the dance finally ended, Wendy wanted nothing more than to escape the overly flashy and seemingly pointless event, when she saw the managers ascend the main, sweeping staircase and raise their hands for silence.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," said Firmin when a hush had fallen over the crowd. "It is our great honor and delight to welcome you all to our theater, especially at such a time when---"

He never finished. For at that moment, the lights went out causing screams to erupt at the sudden darkness. Panic would have ensued if the lights had not come back on as swiftly as they had gone out. And all of the partygoers' eyes locked on a figure who was standing at the top of the short staircase that led to the second level, and one who had most certainly not been there a moment ago. Because of this, many people gasped or screamed softly at the sight of him, knowing exactly who he was.

_The Phantom!_

At first, Wendy was surprised at his choice of dress, but then she smiled to herself as she realized that he would've wanted his entrance to be a shock in every way possible.

Instead of his usual black, Peter was wearing a coat the likes of which Wendy had never seen before. It was dark red like the color of a rose, save for the hem and cuffs which were elaborately embroidered with gold thread. The coat was so long that it whispered on the stairs as Peter descended, his eyes a vibrant ice blue as they glared at Firmin and Andre who were staring, open mouthed. Yet Wendy realized after a moment that they were staring not only at Peter himself but at the long slender sword hung from his waist and clinked ominously as he moved.

"Why so silent, good sirs?" Peter inquired, looked absolutely delighted that two grown men were so fearful of him. "Did you think that I was gone for good? Ha! I am not so easily chased away by a few unfulfilled requests. Although, I must admit that you two _do_ throw a fabulous party when you want to, even though it is a celebration of my so-called 'defeat'." He smirked at the sight of their eyes widening in their increasing fear and his smirk only widened as he swept toward the crowd and announced. "While Misters Firmin and Andre were filling your heads with stories of how they so gallantly defeated me, I and a trusted colleague of mine were busy writing a play. It is a play by this theater's former manager, Mr. James Barrie who entrusted me personally to finish his play which is entitled, _Peter Pan or The Boy Who Would Not Grow Up_." Here, he pivoted around to face Firmin and Andre again and presented them with a dark green leather notebook. Andre took it slowly from Peter's grasp, never taking his eyes off of his masked face. "You're…you're…the phantom?!" he finally managed to gasp.

"Yes," said Peter, "I am."

"But…but you're just a boy!" cried Firmin. "How old are you exactly?"

"Quite young," Peter replied sincerely, "and Mr. Andre, I am the most wonderful boy who ever lived!" He crowed cheerfully but then his smile faded as he drew his sword from his waist and his voice became hard and commanding once more.

"Now, a few instructions before rehearsals start, because as you know, Mr. Barrie shall be returning in early December to oversee the production before its premiere." He paused to walk to forward toward Bella who instantly shrank away as he drew near and the fact that his sword was pointing right at her heart. "First, our dear Miss Guidicelli must be taught a lesson in modesty, so she will be given the silent and unseen role of the fairy, Tinker Bell, for she is so much like a fairy already; only able to have one emotion at a time." He smiled again as Bella's face reddened and she scowled at him but he had already turned away to face Wendy.

"And our main female lead shall be performed by Wendy Darling, as it is long overdue that she should have a starring role," he said, his voice growing steadily softer as he neared her. She couldn't help but smile when he was standing mere inches from her. She knew she should've been shaking in fear but how could she possibly be fearful of Peter? He was so kind, so sweet, so caring but unfortunately he hid all of these qualities underneath a mask just like the one he wore to hide his face from the world.

The pair did not notice that the crowd around was watching with bated breath at what the phantom would do or say to the young ballerina. Wendy was so overjoyed to see Peter again that she didn't notice James slip away from her side as soon as Peter had approached.

Meanwhile, Peter stroked Wendy's cheek like James had done before, but this time Wendy smiled at his touch and said, "I've missed you and thank you for entrusting me with the lead role of Jamie's play."

"Of course, Wendy lady," Peter replied with a smile. "I could think of no one better for role, you share the same name after all."

It was at the exact moment that Peter bent his head and pressed his lips gently to Wendy's, that James arrived, buckling a sword to his waist. He had had enough of this 'phantom business' from both Wendy and the managers and was determined to put a stop to it. And when he saw the phantom kiss Wendy, even though it might have been the most innocent of kisses, his anger and hatred for him only heightened and he quickly unsheathed his sword and launched himself at the boy in scarlet.

In a flash, Peter was away from Wendy's side, narrowly avoiding James' attack and was standing in front of the staircase, grinning cockily at him. James quickly shook off his surprise and ran towards again, brandishing his sword whereupon Peter fled up the staircase yet when he reached the landing, he spun on his heel and _fell through the floor_, quickly disappearing from view.

Several people cried out at his sudden exit but Wendy could see that a trapdoor had opened in the floor, unseen until now as all eyes had been focused on Peter.

James saw it too and without even a second's thought, he jumped through the hole after Peter.

* * *

And he landed in a forest.

There were trees everywhere and they grew so close together that James could not see any sure way out. He briefly wondered how on earth the phantom had managed to cultivate an entire forest underground when the sound of satisfied laughter and then the phantom's voice called out mockingly. "Not so brave now, are you? Catch me if you can, James!" He ended with a laugh that echoed tauntingly around the agitated boy.

Angered at his teasingly, James made raised his sword to cut his way through the trees until he saw the phantom appear all around him.

It wasn't an underground forest at all; it was a series of mirrors that gave the illusion of a large forest.

Nevertheless, James slashed out at the scarlet boy, slicing nothing but air. He whirled around as Peter disappeared and reappeared, smirking cockily at James' struggle.

It was only when Peter disappeared and did not come back that a hand grabbed his shoulder. James instantly whirled around only to find not the phantom, but Slightly.

He said nothing as he pulled James through a door and out into the familiarity of one of the theater's dimmed halls.

"James! Slightly! There you are!" Wendy cried in relief as she saw them standing in middle of a hall. After James had disappeared through the trapdoor after Peter, Wendy had run pell mell around the theater, trying to find a possible second entrance to follow James and not allow him to harm Peter. Even though she knew it was pointless, it was better than pacing in the foyer, worrying about it all.

"What happened?!" She demanded when she reached them.

"James fell into one of Peter's torture chambers," Slightly replied curtly.

"_Torture chambers_?" Wendy squeaked.

"Yes, he has several to trap people who try and find his home," said Slightly as he continued to drag James along the hallway by his wrist.

"Why?" James asked then. "Why does he not want people to find his home? Why does he hide himself away?"

At his questions, Slightly let go of his wrist, spun around to face him and snapped. "I know _nothing_ because the phantom's secrets belong to _no one_ but himself!"

"But you _do_ know them, Slightly," said Wendy. "You're his most trusted friend, besides Jamie and I and Pe—er the phantom has told me nothing about his past."

"And why should he?" Slightly growled. "He has his reasons for hiding himself away."

"It would help us if we knew why," James insisted. "This madness has gone on long enough! Please…Slightly, for all of our sakes."

The three of them had stopped at the end of the hall and Slightly glared at Wendy and James through narrowed eyes as he considered their request. Finally, he sighed heavily and said, "All right, I'll tell you the same story that Jamie told me but whatever I tell you will _not_ leave my room, understand?"

They nodded solemnly.

"Alright, then," said Slightly and he produced a key from his pocket opened an until then invisible door and led the way into his chamber to begin the story of the phantom's dark past.

**Author's Note: I know, I ended it with a cliffy after I haven't updated in so long! But I wanted to devote a whole chapter to Peter's past and I figured that this chapter was already long enough! Again, terribly sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review!**


	12. A Dark and Tragic Past

**Author's Note: Blame homework, papers, illness and writer's block for the severe lateness of this chapter. I know I said that I wouldn't take as long as I did last time but it's hard to do that when I'm already writing two other fanfics and I haven't had the 'spark' to write this fanfic in awhile. But thanks to the late and encouraging reviews from stilldeadwithlove, BigBooksRock and Leigh A. Sumpter, I sat down and wrote this chapter that tells of Peter's past. Hope you enjoy (as much as you can that is) and please review!**

**Also, a big thank you to I Love This Story whose review was so sweet and made me feel so appreicated!**

Chapter 12

A Dark and Tragic Past

_London, 1896_

The rain slithered to the cobblestone streets in an icy sheet, causing James Barrie to hurry as fast as he could from his carriage and to the front door of St. Norbert's Home for Wayward Boys. The orphanage was the largest one in the notorious Whitechapel district and subsequently appeared just as dreary as the weather, if not more so.

The only thing that kept Jamie from calling his cab back was the promise that he had made to the young matron of the orphanage. They had met during the premiere of one of his plays and she had informed him of her place of employment and how the boys under her care would love to hear some of his plays read aloud as the orphanage did not have enough funds to send them to theater…or anywhere else for that matter.

He knocked sharply on the door and shivered as he waited for a reply. When the door finally opened, it was not the young woman as he had expected but an old and rather severe looking woman who scowled at the sight of him.

"Yes? What do you want?" she inquired, rather rudely.

"Good evening," said Jamie politely. "My name is James Barrie and I was invited here by a young woman who I believe works here and—"

"Christine!" the woman shouting, interrupting Jamie. "There's a gentleman here to see you!"

"There's no need to shout, Aunt, I was expecting him," said Christine, as she appeared in the doorway. "Good evening, Mr. Barrie. I'm so happy that you came despite this awful weather! Please, come in or you'll catch cold!"

"Thank you," said Jamie gratefully as he stepped out of the wind and rain and into the rather dimly lit foyer. A timid servant girl relieved him of his coat, hat and cane and then Christine led the way down a long corridor, saying, "The boys are very eager to meet you, Mr. Barrie, they don't get many visitors, you see and adoptions are rare, I'm sorry to tell you."

"It's just as well," snapped Christine's aunt from behind Jamie, "who would want the dirty little mongrels when their parents can't even take care of them."

"Hush, Aunt," Christine chastised as they stopped at the door to what Jamie supposed was a parlor. "Why don't you go fix us some tea?"

The old woman grumbled something incoherent but thankfully, stalked off. When she was gone, Christine smiled at Jamie and said, "Now, I'll introduce you to the boys." And she flung open the door and the two of them entered the spacious room.

Unlike the hall outside, the room was brightly lit with a cheerful fire burning the grate, around which sat a group of ten or so boys ranging in age from six to sixteen. Although their faces had been scrubbed clean (no doubt for his visit) the clothes that they wore were extremely dirty and ill fitting. There was a single moth eaten armchair which was placed to one side of the fireplace, which Jamie supposed was meant for him.

He was correct as Christine led him to this very chair and once he was seated, she announced, "Boys, this is Mr. James Barrie, the playwright who I told you about, the one I met the theater. Since I find him to be a most excellent story teller, I asked him if he might come see us and tell us some stories to pass the night away."

"What sort of stories do you tell, Mr. Barrie?" asked one little boy of about seven who wearing nothing but a dirty flannel shirt.

"All kinds," Jamie replied, "well, actually that's not entirely true. You see, I only tell stories that have happy endings, they are the best kinds after all." And he was pleased when many of the boys nodded in agreement. Smiling, he clapped his hands and said, "Well, let's get started, shall we? I'm going to start telling you a story but whenever you get to some part that you don't like, just shout out something that you would like to happen instead and I'll change it, how does that sound?"

"You mean you _want_ us to interrupt you?" asked one boy.

"Yes, exactly."

They all looked very pleased at this and so Jamie began a story of a boy who was taken aboard a pirate ship that was captained by a fearsome pirate known as Long John Silver. The story was not truly his own story but that of his friend's, Robert Louis Stevenson. The story which was formally called _Treasure Island_, but with all the changes that the boys called out to him, it became an entirely different story completely.

They were just describing a particularly marvelous battle scene when they heard the old matron shout from down the hall. "What are you doing up here?! Get back! You wretched child! GET BACK!"

At her shouts, Christine leapt to her feet and ran out of the room and Jamie, his curiosity quirked, followed.

Outside in the hall, a few feet away from the parlor but still within earshot, a little boy of about eight cowered against the wall while the old woman brandished a wooden spoon at him as if to protect herself against him. He was dressed in the same manner as the other boys: completely in rags but his, if it were possible seemed even filthier than the others'. To make his appearance worse, a dirty burlap sack had been placed over his head so that the only thing that could be seen of his features were two bright blue eyes that were now filled with fear.

"I _knew_ he would wander up here once my back was turned!" she shouted at her niece. "I_ knew_ we should've chained up down there! Serves him right, the little devil!"

"He's done nothing wrong, Aunt Cynthia," said Christine as gently as she could, although Jamie noted that she did not look at the boy as she spoke. "He no doubt just wanted to hear Mr. Barrie's story, where's the harm in that?"

"_Harm_?!" cried her aunt. "He's dangerous, Christine! That's the harm! He could kill us all at any moment!"

"Forgive me, madam," Jamie cut in smoothly, "but it seems as if _you_ will kill him before he does any harm to you. Pray tell, what is so wrong with him that you must hide him away?"

But his question was ignored as it appeared that he had been talking the boy had taken the opportunity to try and sneak into the parlor but Christine's aunt had spotted him in the act and immediately brought the wooden spoon cracking down on his back. The boy cried out in pain and feel to the floor only to be subjected to more merciless blows. Jamie watched in horror at his mistreatment and turned to the young woman beside him. "What you doing?! Why don't you stop her?!" he yelled at her.

"I—I can't, Mr. Barrie, I'm sorry, but he…he must learn his lesson to not…not leave the cellar," she cried.

Finally, Christine's aunt lowered the spoon and glared down at the whimpering boy. "That should teach to not disobey orders. Now, get back to the cellar where you belong!" she ordered, smacking him once more with the spoon. Crying, the boy dragged himself to his feet, covering his head with his arms in a weak attempt to fend off any more assaults but none came and he shuffled down the hall and disappeared through an open door near the end.

When he was gone, Jamie turned to the women and said coldly. "I demand an explanation as to your treatment of that boy."

"His parents died of consumption several weeks ago during one of the outbreaks in this district," Cynthia explained, "he, somehow was still alive when the men came to collect the bodies. So, of course they feared that he was infected or if not, was possessed by some force that allowed him to remain alive. They did not want to find out and neither did anyone else, so they brought him here. _No one_ was safe from the consumption, Mr. Barrie, except that despicable creature so in order to not spread the disease further, we locked him up in the cellar."

"But why keep his face hidden?" Jamie asked.

"Well, to survive the consumption like he did, the boys feared that to so much as look at him, they would be stricken. Even the people in his neighborhood feared him and I as have already explained, no one wanted him. Darkness is his only true friend, Mr. Barrie," Cynthia explained.

"Well," said Jamie with as much calm as he could muster. "I shall soon change that, I want you to entrust the boy to me."

The two women stared at him until Christine breathed, "Mr. Barrie, are you_ sure_?"

"Completely, it is obvious that he cannot stay another night in this orphanage as he is not wanted at all," he replied and he looked that them so severely, something that was very uncharacteristic of him that the two women gave in to his request.

And so, five minutes later, Jamie climbed into the carriage with the shaking wide eyed boy sitting across from him with his knees drawn up under his chin as if to further shield him from the world.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked from above them.

"Montague Street," Jamie answered, "and be quick about it!"

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

"Jamie, is that you?" mumbled the sleep filled voice of the man who answered Jamie's frantic knocking.

"Yes, Arthur, it's me," said Jamie. "I must speak with you, it's an emergency."

Do you have idea what time it is?" Arthur grumbled.

"It's a _medical_ emergency, Arthur!"

At that, the man's eyes widened in surprise and his fatigue vanished. "Well, by all means, come in then." And he opened the door wider to admit him. Jamie climbed the few stairs and stepped over the threshold and then looked behind him to see that the boy had followed, albeit timidly.

"Don't fret," he assured him kindly. "Arthur is a dear friend of mine and a doctor, he will help you and so will I. You'll never be going back to that orphanage, I promise you."

He couldn't tell what the boy was thinking because of the bag over his head but he followed him the rest of the way into Arthur's house.

It was only when they were inside that Arthur noticed. "My God!" he exclaimed at the sight of him. "Jamie, where on earth—?"

"This is the emergency that I was referring to," Jamie cut in. "I was just at one of the orphanages in Whitechapel where I witnessed this boy being severely mistreated. The matron informed me that his parents had died of the consumption that had swept through the area and that they had been keeping the boy in the cellar since his arrival. I would like you to examine him."

"Certainly, this way," said Arthur with a nod. He showed them to a small examination room and then left only to return a few minutes later with his black medical bag. During his absence, Jamie had managed to coax the boy sit on the high table so Arthur could better examine him.

"Well, first things first," said Arthur, "What's your name, lad? My name is Dr. Conan Doyle."

The boy was quiet for several seconds before he said in a very small voice. "Peter."

"Excellent! Well, as Jamie said, I am going to give you a general examination and after we shall see about getting you some supper, how does that sound?"

"Good," was the whispered reply.

And so Arthur began his exam. Jamie had to applaud him for how gentle he was with the traumatized boy with as little of his situation that he had told him. Peter sat stock still as Arthur poked and prodded him as gently as he could. He had Peter lie down on his stomach and then on his back and Jamie distinctly heard him cluck his tongue disapprovingly. It was until he had checked him all over and made to take off the bag on his head that Peter flinched away from him, gripping the edges tighter to his head.

"Peter, I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to see if the reason why they have forced you to hide your face is a medical one," Arthur explained.

"They…they said I had a demon face because I survived the disease that killed my parents," Peter replied in that same soft voice as before. "They said that I must hide at all times because the other boys were scared of me and they thought they would get sick."

"You certainly won't scare me, Peter, as a doctor I've seen many things that would make your hair curl! But if it helps, I can ask Jamie to step out of the room for a moment."

"Yes. I'm sorry, sir," he added in Jamie's direction.

"No need to apologize, lad," said Jamie as he got to his feet. "I'll go see about getting you something to eat, shall I?"

Peter nodded vigorously at this and the shadow of a smile crossed his face.

Arthur and Peter (with his face covered again) entered the dining room where Jamie had made some tea and sandwiches for them. At sight of the food, Peter grabbed two of them and stuffed them whole into his mouth. The two men could only grab one each before the boy ate the rest of them in record speed. Once he was finished, he looked longingly at the plate that now contained only crumbs. "I think those sandwiches will keep you full until breakfast at least," said Arthur with a slight chuckle. "Now, I suggest you go off to bed, Peter. You've had a big night and you deserve a rest."

"Yes, sir," said Peter, "but where shall I sleep?"

"Well, since you are a guest of mine. You shall have the guest bedroom. It's already made up since I rarely have guests, so just follow me, please." And he led the boy out of the room while Jamie sipped his tea, anxious for his friend to return so he could hear about Peter.

And so when Arthur returned, he promptly asked. "Well, how is he?"

"Despite his obvious malnutrition, I found several bruises and cuts, evidence of the abuse he severed there. Although they seemed to have healed and the attack that he received tonight will of course cause more bruising and let me tell you, Jamie, I'm so glad you got him out of there when you did. No child should have to live in such a vile place."

"I agree," said Jamie, "can you tell me about his face?"

Here, Arthur shook his head. "No, he said he would show you in his own time but he took the bag off just like he said he would and he is certainly no demon."

"I never thought that he was anyway," said Jamie. "He is merely a child who was horribly misunderstood and shown the true evil of the world at far too young an age."

"Yes, indeed, but now what shall you do with him? You're not going to take him to another orphanage, are you?"

"Certainly not, I believe I shall take to the theater tomorrow and show him where I work as well as tour of the more happier sides of the city," Jamie answered.

"A splendid idea," his friend agreed with a smile. "Some happiness will work wonders on him."

* * *

"And that is exactly what happened," said Slightly, back in the present in his room in the Duke of York's Opera House. "Jamie took him on a tour of London but when they reached opera house, Peter didn't want to leave, no matter how much Jamie tried to make him. He told him that as much as he enjoyed the day, he felt that he was not meant for the outside world and went about making himself a home within the theater itself."

"And then he started the whole phantom persona," James filled in quietly.

"Yes, so it would seem," said Slightly.

"Oh, poor Peter!" cried Wendy. "Oh, I had no idea! What an awful life to be so mistreated like that!"

"Yes, but he's happy here, Wendy. He wouldn't want it any other way," Slightly told her. "After all he went through, it makes sense for him to want to hide away from the world since he was forced to hide away from the beginning."

"Yes, but it's all so sad!" she cried. "Those women are absolutely horrid for treating him like they did and telling him that he was a demon and a devil!" Here, she paused to dab at her eyes with her handkerchief and then continued. "Peter is certainly no devil, he is an angel! The angel of the opera, I'd say."

"To Wendy, but to us, he is nothing but trouble," said James gruffly, "and it is clear that the trauma that he faced so early in life has lead him into madness!"

"Madness!" cried Wendy. "Peter is_ not_ mad, James! Troubled, yes but not mad!"

"I agree with Wendy," said Slightly. "I have grown to know Peter very well over the years and he is certainly not mad."

"But he can't continue to harass the managers like he does!" countered James.

"Yes, he can," said Slightly seriously, "and he will, until they give into his demands and if they continue to defy him…well, I can imagine what he would do to them or the theater then."

None of them spoke as each pondered what Peter could possibly do to seek ultimate revenge on the managers until Wendy said, "Well, Slightly, thank you for telling us the story of Peter's past. It has certainly been enlightening as well as heart wrenching to hear but now I think I should retire for the night, since I'm sure it is very later by now."

"Yes, indeed," Slightly agreed, "but Wendy, you won't tell Peter that I told about his past, will you?"

"Of course not, Slightly, I wouldn't dream of it," Wendy promised as she got to her feet. Declining James's offer to escort her to her room, she bade Slightly good night and then left the room.

Outside, the hall lights were all but extinguished but Wendy knew the way back to her dormitory by heart and she spent the walk pondering Peter's dark past and how it had shaped him into both the friend that she knew and loved and the mysterious phantom guise that he fashioned for himself all those years ago.

**Author's Note: You probably recognize the name Arthur Conan Doyle as the creator of the great detective Sherlock Holmes and yes, he and Barrie were friends and they even wrote a comic opera together. So just a bit of literary history there! Hope you liked the chapter despite the sadness of it with Peter past. Again sorry for the lateness of this chapter and please review! I will update when I can!**


	13. Battle in the Graveyard

**Author's Note: Well, it took me less than a month to update! Yay! I meant to get this chapter up much sooner but then finals were upon me as was a lot of stress. But here is the chapter that contains one of my favorite parts from the movie: the swordfight in the cemetery. I have changed it a lot from the movie to fit this story, so I hope you like my changes and please review! **

Chapter 13

Battle in the Graveyard

Wendy rose early the next morning, despite the fact that she had not fallen asleep for several hours after returning from hearing the story of Peter's past. She couldn't believe all of the connections the two of them had. Both had been orphaned at a young age, both of their families had died from a disease and both had been taken the very same theater to live.

And somehow they had managed to find each other through it all.

Wendy smiled at this as she put on one of her warmer cloaks and headed out of the dormitory. With so many things in common, especially the deaths of their families, Wendy felt a strong desire to visit her own as soon as possible.

The November morning had a definite wintry chill to it as her carriage rumbled through the streets of London, that were for first, mostly devoid of traffic. When they arrived at the high gates of the cemetery, the driver asked, "Shall I wait here for you, miss?"

"No, thank you, I'll be fine," she replied politely.

"Well, if you're sure…"

"Yes, I'm sure. Thank you for your concern, though."

"Right, well, I'll be off then," he said and flicked the reins and drove away as Wendy turned and entered the cemetery.

A thin layer of snow covered the ground as Wendy weaved her way through the thick stone markers, some topped with crumbling angels or doves. She noted that some had had visitors as flowers had been laid beside them and she regretted not thinking to bring any for her family.

Their headstones were clumped together next to a large tree towards the back of the cemetery. When she arrived, she settled herself on the wooden bench that been placed near them. She read their names aloud and her heart ached at the short span of years that her brothers had lived and how it was completely unfair that they had had to die so young.

Granted, she didn't really remember those days of sickness except that she had been kept away from her family while they tried to recover and later lay dying. Being only nine, it was hard for her to comprehend the fact that she was losing her family until they actually died. Wendy didn't know what she would've done if James Barrie hadn't found her and taken her away before some strange relative had. That was another connection that her and Peter had, she realized, they had both been rescued by Jamie.

_Thank God for him_, she thought to herself, _without him both of our lives would be completely different than they are now. _

"Indeed," said a voice behind her, "if not for him, I don't believe we would've ever met."

Wendy jumped at the sound of the voice but then relaxed as she looked behind her and saw Peter standing a few feet away, watching her. He was wearing the same black mask that he had worn at the masquerade and it made his blue eyes sparkle even brighter against the sharp contrast of the black.

"Peter!" Wendy cried, getting to her feet. "What are you doing here?"

It was several seconds before he answered and when he did, he said, "I'm, um, I'm visiting some people, just like you."

"I see," she replied, although she had pretty good guess as to who he was visiting.

"And well, I must confess Wendy, I followed your carriage here," Peter admitted. "I was hoping to talk to you again before you start rehearsal."

"Talk to me about what, Peter?"

"Oh, just talk," he replied as he walked forward to stand next to her. He looked at the graves of her family before he said softly, "I'm sorry, Wendy."

"It's all right, Peter."

"No, it is _not_ all right. Children should not die that young. And although I do not care for most grown ups, I'm sure your parents were wonderful as well."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you are," he said sincerely.

Wendy sighed. "Peter, you are too sweet, really it's almost unreal."

"Well, has James ever said such things to you?"

"No," she admitted, "no, he doesn't really, but I see him more as a friend anyway."

"Good, because I could hardly see you courting such a person."

Wendy smiled. "Me, too."

It was then that she heard a sound that she swore that she not heard before.

Peter laughed.

It didn't last for very long as he ended up shaking his head at her but it was a laugh just the same and it made Wendy's heart soar that she had provoked such a reaction out of him. But when he finished, she asked, "Peter, what are you laughing for?"

"You!" he crowed. "And your situation with James! He loves you but you do not love him yet you still continue to spend time with him! Oh, I will never understand these silly societal norms!"

Here, Wendy couldn't help but laugh either. "I know, it all seems so silly and foolish!"

"Indeed!" he agreed, his eyes shining with mirth behind his mask.

Wendy didn't know how it happened but somehow she found herself moving closer to him and then he was willingly wrapping his arms around her. She just stood there and not did have to persuade him to do so. Instead, she allowed herself to be swept up in the moment of Peter being the closest to her that he had ever been and the fact that he seemed to love her so deeply.

She rested her on his shoulder and his arms tightened snugly around her. Despite the chill in the air, he was very warm and she smiled at the thought of how, not only did he warm her physically, but made her feel warm and light inside as well.

All too soon, Peter's arms relaxed and he moved away from her but kept his arms looped loosely around her waist. "I—I don't know what came over me, Wendy," he admitted then. "I—I just wanted to show you how much I care for you and for once, words didn't seem enough."

"Peter, that was wonderful, there's no need to feel ashamed about it."

"I'm not ashamed, just surprised."

"Well then, surprises are always good," said Wendy, as she took one of his gloved hands in hers and received another surprise from him when he squeezed it gently. They gazed at each other for several long seconds before a sharp shout cut the stillness of the cemetery, causing both of them to jump.

"Wendy! Get away from him!"

Wendy whipped her head to the right and saw James zigzagging his way towards her, brandishing a sword.

"James, what on earth are you doing?!" she cried as he reached them, panting heavily but still managing to keep the tip of his sword pointed at Peter, who was looking both very bewildered and amused.

"What am_ I_ doing? What are _you_ doing, embracing him and conversing with him after what we've found out about him and in a cemetery of all places?!" James retorted.

"What?!" demanded Peter before Wendy could even open her mouth to reply. "What have you found out about me?"

"We know everything!" said James. "We know how your parents died of consumption and how you were despised by everyone around you! Now, get away from Wendy!" With this command, he brought his sword back, meaning seriously injure Peter but his sword never touched him as Peter whipped out his weapon and met James' with an echoing clank. Wendy had no idea how he knew that James was going to come looking for her or how she had not seen the sword beforehand but such peculiarities soon became trivial as Peter and James began their fight.

"No, James, stop it! He's done nothing wrong!" Wendy yelled above the clanking metal, but her words were lost on the two foes and she knew that it was helpless to try and stop them.

She would later admit that both were expert swordsmen but while immense anger seemed to be driving James, Peter had speed and cunning on his side. He deflected James' blows with ease, much like he had done on the night of the masquerade ball. Whenever it seemed that James's sword would hit its mark, Peter would leap away with lightening speed and whenever this happened, Wendy swore that she could see a cocky smile on his lips.

The only sounds that filled the usually tranquil cemetery was the ringing metal of the clashing swords. After what seemed like an hour, Wendy was sure that they must be getting tired yet neither showed signs of it or surrendering.

They had moved a great distance away from Wendy's family's graves when James managed to push Peter against a tall headstone and it was when he held his arm straight out in order parry him, that James lunged in and cleanly sliced Peter's forearm with the tip of his sword.

He cried out instantly in pain and fell into the snow as he clutched his bleeding arm. It was only when James raised his sword and pointed at Peter's throat, bloodlust in his eyes that Wendy was finally able to intervene.

"James, don't!" she yelled, slipping between Peter and James's sword. "There's no reason for this! You've already injured him, this madness needs to stop!"

"This madness _will_ stop when he is either dead or he is put in an asylum!" James growled. "His games and tricks have gone far enough and since the managers won't do anything about him, I will!"

"Peter does _not_ belong in an asylum!" Wendy yelled back. "Like I've been saying James, he has done nothing wrong and he will stay in the opera house where he belongs and is happy." Then, she laid a hand gently on his arm that was still gripping his sword and added softly, "Now, I think it's time for you to go back to the opera house and think about what you're saying here. Your little fight is over, James, you've caused enough trouble for one day."

He looked daggers at her then, but still lowered his sword and sheathed it, keeping his eyes on Wendy the entire time. Then, without even asking how she was going to get back to the theater, he turned and stomped away.

Wendy watched until he was a good distance away before she turned around to tend to Peter, only to find that he wasn't there. Alarmed, she looked frantically around for him but he was nowhere to be seen. It was only when she looked down at the ground to see a trail of fresh blood droplets in the snow. Knowing who had left them, Wendy began to follow them.

The blood trail led her far through the cemetery. As she walked, Wendy noticed that the headstones became steadily smaller and not as well maintained. Some graves were marked only by a small mound of stone or a wooden cross. And it was beside one of these crosses that she found Peter.

He was huddled as close to it as he could be without knocking it over. He didn't make any sound or movement as Wendy cautiously approached. Only when she was standing directly behind him, did she realize why.

He was crying.

It was very muffled but it was crying nonetheless. Wendy moved so that she was standing next to him and crouched down, laying a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. As soon as she did this, he looked up, his blue eyes full of tears.

"I—I'm sorry," he mumbled through his tears. "I'm sorry for everything!"

"Peter, you have nothing to be sorry about," said Wendy gently. "It's James who should be sorry, making you remember things that you don't want to."

"Yes, but…it's all true, everything. My parents left me…and no…no one wants me."

"Jamie wanted you and_ I_ want you, you're my best friend, Peter," Wendy said as she took him into her arms. Peter buried his face in her shoulder as he continued to sniffle and she rubbed his back comfortingly.

"I just want the memories to go away!" he moaned pitifully. "No more memories and no more silent tears! And too many years fighting back tears! Why can't my past just die?!"*

"Oh, Peter, you're not alone in thinking that. I feel the same about my past sometimes."

"You do?"

"Yes, but then again, if what happened in both of our pasts hadn't happened, as awful as it was, we would have never met."

He said nothing to this but Wendy had the feeling that he understood and was at least, a little grateful. She continued to hold and comfort him for how long she didn't know and she didn't care. She was with Peter, her one true friend who had always been there for her and the one whom she knew she loved all along. So it was only right and fair, that she should be there for him when he needed her love and comfort the most.

**Author's Note: * Recognize these lines?...They're from the song that Christine sings in the graveyard, "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again". I was going to have Peter sing them, but figured it would be better if he said them since it would be more natural. Anyway, hope you liked the chapter and please review!**


	14. Peter and the Play

**Author's Note: Thought I'd given up on this story, didn't you? No, I have not given up on it and never will, I just wasn't sure how to continue it and finals and the holidays kept me very busy. But now all of that is over and here is the next chapter in which you will see the 'phantom' side of Peter come out. Thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter, hope you enjoy this one and please review!**

Chapter 14

Peter and the Play

After the encounter in the cemetery and subsequent fight between Peter and James, Wendy continued to see Peter as much as she could even when rehearsals began to start on Jamie's play. It was during these times, that she saw the most of him as she could easily pick him out from where he hid in the shadows of Box Five.

Yet, when Jamie arrived on the first day of December, shortly after rehearsals started and he began to oversee them, her sightings of him abruptly stopped. Whenever she happened to glance up at the rafters or Box Five, searching for his form hiding in the shadows, she did not see him. Wondering what had caused his sudden disappearance and missing the feeling of his presence nearby, Wendy confronted Jamie about it when a week had gone and she still had not glimpsed hide nor hair of Peter.

"Jamie, where has Peter gone off to? He usually watches the rehearsals and I haven't seen him at all this week. Is he ill?"

At her question, the playwright smiled a knowing smile. "No, my dear child, he is not ill. I have, shall we say, persuaded him to remain in Neverland while rehearsals continue because I feel that the thrill of seeing it in its entirety will be much greater once opening night arrives. I know that he no doubt that he knows the play by heart considering that you and he wrote half of it together, but still, I have always been fond of the element of surprise." His smile drooped slightly then as he lowered his voice and added, "And also, to tell you the truth, Wendy, with the changes that I made to it, I think it would be better for him to see them all in their final form."

Wendy nodded in understanding and although, she was going to miss the comforting feeling of knowing that he was silently watching her…and that he was happy.

Wendy might of thought Peter was happy during his witness of the rehearsals (which he certainly was) but he was not at all happy to be banned to his underground home. He had wanted to show Wendy how he much supported her by watching the rehearsals…as well as see the magic of Jamie's play unfold on stage. But, Jamie had assured that the magic of it would be much better felt on opening night. While Peter understood this, he was immensely disappointed to not see Wendy as much as he had. And he began to feel like a prisoner in his own home.

Although neither Peter, Wendy nor James Barrie knew it then, this was the beginning of the end.

* * *

While Wendy rehearsed and Peter sulked, James was busy having several meetings with managers during the weeks leading up to the opening night of _Peter Pan or The Boy Who Would Not Grow Up. _

He decided once and for all the business with Peter and his phantom persona had to come to an end…and soon. Knowing what he did about Peter's past, James relayed the story of his past to them during one such meeting. When he was finished, he said, "As you can see, gentlemen, the boy is obviously greatly disturbed due to his past and as you well know from what has happened here, with all of the accidents and that awful murder, that he must be stopped."

The managers nodded gravely in agreement. "What do you suggest we do?" Andre asked.

"Have some members of the Yard present on opening night. If he makes an appearance, they will arrest him," James answered smoothly. Then he added, "That is, only if you gentlemen agree, since I do not wish to impose any sort of dominance over you two since you are the managers after all."

"Oh, don't be so modest, lad!" Firmin said with a wave of his hand. "We agree completely with your proposal since, as you say, this boy's idea that he is the phantom of the opera and his manipulation of the crew and actors' feelings has gone on long enough!"

"Then it's settled then," said James, allowing himself a small satisfied smile. "The phantom's reign over this theater will soon be put to an end."

* * *

Tonight was the night. After many weeks of rehearsal and hard work by everyone involved, it was the opening night of Jamie's play.

And Wendy couldn't have been more nervous.

She knew her lines and her places on stage well enough, but she couldn't help worrying over how both Jamie and Peter would think of it. Then, she scolded herself for thinking that Peter would be anything but pleased with it, at least she hoped so with the changes that had been made to their original work.

She took a few calming breaths and waited anxiously for her cue.

Apparently all of Peter's letters had paid off because no one was sitting in Box Five and when he arrived, Slightly was waiting for him.

"It's about time I was given my preferred seat," said Peter as he sat down in the chair that was more hidden in shadow. "How did you manage to convince them, Slightly?"

His friend shrugged. "I have no idea, Peter, I suppose they were just expecting your arrival and figured that since they have already ignored so many of your requests, it was the least they could."

"So it would seem," Peter murmured to himself. He was determined not to become angry with the managers tonight, despite how incompetent they were. He was determined to enjoy tonight's show and not have a reason to cause any interruptions.

Much to his delight, Slightly took the seat next to him and while Peter eagerly watched the stage, waiting for the thick red curtain to rise, Slightly watched the crowd and easily found the constables that had been called in, as he knew, to capture Peter. He had been informed of their presence by Firmin and Andre earlier that day. While he tried to convince them that having the police stationed throughout the theater was very unnecessary, they would hear none of what he had to say and went on with their plans.

_Please, Peter,_ he begged silently to himself. _Don't do anything rash tonight. Please. _

When the play did begin, ten minutes later, Peter only had eyes for Wendy. She was wonderful both in looks and in her performance. Within the first five minutes, he was completely captivated by her. She played her role with such realism that he couldn't help but be reminded of her wonderful stories that she had told him in Neverland.

Everything was going splendidly (at least for Peter) until the title character, Peter Pan arrived. As the character's inspiration, Peter was eager to see how he had been transformed on stage and when he arrived and began to converse with Wendy while she sewed his shadow, he realized that something wasn't quite right.

"Slightly," he whispered, "the actor playing Peter Pan."

"Yes? What about him?"

"His voice sounds strange."

Slightly had been dreading that Peter would notice the actor's voice. As much as Peter knew about the theater, there some things that both Slightly and Jamie knew that he could not understand, in his desire for everything to be perfect in regards to the play. So, they had not told him about the reality of having someone fly across a stage, specifically a boy.

"Yes, Peter, I have noticed too," Slightly whispered back, choosing his words carefully. "And please, let me assure that there is a logical explanation for it."

"Well, what is it?"

"It's because…because the actor playing Peter Pan…er, you is a—a girl." Slightly finished in a voice barely above the whisper, anticipating Peter's reaction.

"_What_?!" Peter gasped angrily, yet still managing to keep his voice low. "What do you mean the actor is a girl?! He _can't_ be a girl! The play is about the _boy_ who never grew up, not the _girl_!"

"I know, Peter, I know," Slightly whispered gently. "But, you see, in order for Peter to fly, the part to be played by a girl because the harness is better suited for a girl's body."

Peter snorted in disgust. That hardly seemed like a justification for completely changing the gender of the main character, but he knew it was no use arguing over it as he settled back in his seat to watch the rest of it. But he certainly wasn't happy about it. Not at all.

Yet as the play progressed, Peter had to admit, if only to himself that the actress playing Peter Pan was very good and believable. She certainly understood the character very well and Peter silently applauded her in that respect.

He managed to watch the rest of the play without questioning anything more. It was quite unlike anything he had seen at the Duke of York's Opera House before or felt that he would ever see. The pirates were just as he and Wendy had described them and he was thrilled with immense villainy of Captain Hook, especially since he had been partly based on Wendy's suitor.

Yes, it was, he realized, one of the happier times that he had had throughout his life at the theater and for once, Peter was glad to act as nothing more than an audience member…and a very mystified audience member at that.

He was so caught up in the magic of it all, that he had no idea that by the end of the evening, these feelings would be nothing more than memories.

The change came at the end of the play.

Peter had been eager to see the last few scenes preformed on stage since he himself had written them and was very proud of himself for writing such a marvelous ending. The battle between Peter Pan and Captain Hook was just as thrilling as he had imagined it and he was on the edge of his seat the entire time, waiting for the moment that Wendy would decide to remain on Neverland forever.

It never came.

Instead, right after the battle, the lights rose up on the Darling nursery and the grieving parents. Peter watched as his wonderful ending crumble with the arrival of Wendy, John and Michael. They had returned home safe and sound. This was not the worst of it however. It was when the Lost Boys decided to stay behind and grow up, he felt flames of anger rise of up inside of him. This was all Jamie's doing, he knew. Jamie, who had entrusted him with finishing only to be deceived by him turning around and changing the ending that he, Peter had worked so hard on perfecting.

It hurt to think that Jamie was at least not crediting his work with keeping it in the play. It hurt very much, the kind of hurt that he had not felt in a long, long time.

And he had thought that he would never have to feel it again.

It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. He felt blood rush to his ears as he balled his hands into fists. The play was wrong. Jamie had been wrong about wanting his help with the play. The only thing that wasn't wrong with his life was Wendy, but she was only a small factor within his life full of hate, death and betrayal.

And now, Peter was determined to put a stop to it.

Not wanting to watch anymore of the tragedy that Jamie's play had turned into, Peter got to his feet, anger coiling inside of him, and strode out of the Box. He had only gone several feet before he heard someone yell behind him. "Peter, where are you going?! You're missing it!"

"It doesn't matter, Slightly," Peter called back without turning around. "Nothing matters anymore."

"What do you mean?" Slightly asked, from very close behind him.

At his question, Peter spun and glared at him. "What I mean, Slightly, is that the play is all wrong! I wrote a great and happy ending for it and Jamie changed it! He changed it so that it was sad and horrible and just not right at all!" he ended in a growl.

"Peter, I'm sure Jamie had good reason—" Slightly began.

"No, he didn't!" Peter snarled. "He trusted me to finish his play and I did! But apparently, it wasn't good enough for him so he betrayed my trust in him by changing it!" He stopped then, panting a little from his retort and then added in a dangerously soft voice. "I—I thought he loved me."

"He _does_ love you, Peter, he—" Slightly began but was yet again interrupted by a third voice. "What in the world is going on here?"

Slightly whirled around and found James Barrie standing behind him, looking both alarmed and confused.

"I was just coming to ask how you two enjoyed the play when I heard all of this shouting, now what's going on, lads?" he asked, stepping forward.

"How could you, Jamie?!" Peter snapped instantly. "How _could_ you?!"

The playwright's face morphed into one of complete confusion. "How could I what, my boy?"

"The ending!" Peter shrieked. "You changed _my_ ending! Wendy and the others went back home and the Lost Boys stayed in London! They weren't supposed to! They were supposed to stay on Neverland and _be happy_!"

Jamie's face softened into sadness. "I see," he said quietly and then added more loudly. "Peter, I'm sorry. I know you must be very angry with me, but it was Wendy's choice, the character's that is, to go home and grow up. She knew she had to face adulthood…reality, eventually."

Both Slightly and Jamie stood there, waiting for Peter to scream out his rage at them once more. Yet, he just stood, looking daggers at Jamie. None of them spoke, for none knew what to say, until…

"Peter!"

The threesome turned to see hurryingly down the hall towards them was Wendy, still in her costume. She was a few feet away from them when Slightly held out a hand to stop her and advised. "Wendy, this may not be the best time, Peter's a bit…heated at the moment."

" 'Heated' hardly describes it," said Peter coolly. "Furious would be more appropriate, yet I am doing my best to contain myself in front of my Wendy lady."

Wendy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Peter, whatever is the matter?"

"Ask _him_," Peter snapped, jabbing a finger at Jamie, who was looking a little pale and went even paler when Wendy looked at him for an answer as to Peter's sullenness.

"Peter finds the ending to my play…very unsatisfactory to what he had original written for it," Jamie told her, his voice shaking a little. "Yet, I have explained to him the reasons as to why I have changed it as I did."

Wendy nodded and then walked past Slightly to Peter. When she reached him, she laid a hand on his cheek and she felt him relax at her touch.

"I know it wasn't right for us to keep so many large changes from you so I know that this play was very dear to your heart," she said gently. "But, Peter, I believe that the changes made them even better than it was before! Really, it is a lovely play and everyone in the audience loved, even the adults!"

Peter looked at her, his face expressionless. Then, he lifted her hand from his cheek and kissed it. He then drew her into his arms and whispered something so low that neither Jamie or Slightly could make out what it was. They watched as he kissed the top of her head, moved around her and began to walk down the hall. When he gone a little ways, Jamie called out. "I know you are upset with the ending, Peter, but what did you think of the rest of it?"

His cloaked form stopped and turned around slowly to face them. They couldn't his expression due to his mask but they heard it in his voice when he said, "I believe, Jamie, that it is a terrible masterpiece." His voice was dangerously soft and full of an immense hidden pain that left all three of them rooted to the floor, staring after him as he continued to saunter down the hall.

**Author's Note: What Peter said to James Barrie at the end, is an exact quote from Peter Llewellyn Davies (when he was older, obviously) about **_**Peter Pan**_** the play, I think it's an interesting choice of words since he did not care to be recognized because he shared his name with Barrie's character. Anyway, since most of you here are familiar with the story, you know what is coming next, but since this is a crossover, I am alternating a few things, some of which you will like and some you may not but I promise that this story will have a happy ending! So, I hope enjoyed the chapter and please review!**


	15. Beneath the Mask

**Author's Note: Missed me? Mad at me for not updating in like, forever? I hope not! It may take me awhile to update a fic but I never just give up on one. I always finish everything I start! I was actually going to make this chapter longer but I would've ended up with two very short chapters after it, so hope you like this one after such a long wait! **

**Also, many thanks to those who sent me the nice reviews encouraging me to continue this story**

Chapter 15

Beneath the Mask

It was several minutes after Peter had left, that one of the stunned threesome finally spoke.

"What did you say to you, Wendy?" Slightly asked, albeit hesitantly. "When he embraced you?"

Wendy did not turn around or make any sign that she had heard him as she continued to stare off in the direction that Peter had gone. Slightly was about to ask again when she replied in a soft, pained voice. "He said, 'The play may be lovely, Wendy, but the damage has already been done'."

The other two had no reply to this for there was nothing to say, only that by coming from an already enraged Peter, it could not bode well for any of them.

* * *

The papers the next morning were abuzz with the overnight success of Jamie's play and the reviews were glowing with praise of both him and the actors. During the next week's performances, Wendy saw grown men's faces glow with happy memories of their boyhood as they watched. And Firmin and Andre could not be more thrilled with their first real success and newfound fortune.

In fact, everyone seemed to be high spirits because of it.

Save for three.

Well, four to be exact, but no one would know of his anguish until it was too late.

Despite their efforts to remain cheerful and calm, Wendy and James Barrie were full of dread. From Peter's reactions after opening night, they knew that he could only be plotting some form of retaliation. Not only against themselves, for changing the play as they had, but against the managers as well. Although they had finally given him his box seat, they had refused his requests time and time again even after he had given them a fair amount of warnings as to the consequences if they did not heed his requests.

As for James Hooke, he was extremely annoyed that his plan had been foiled only because Peter had not shown himself as he thought he would. His annoyance was heightened by the fact that Firmin and Andre did not share his views on not capturing Peter, as they were only concerned with their new-found success. But after many meetings throughout the week, James managed to convince them to bring back the troupe of Scotland Yard constables for the upcoming Friday night's performance as they had been present on opening night, one week ago.

The managers had agreed. While they were giddy with their fortune and fame, they also wanted to catch Peter to prevent any further accidents that could otherwise deter the cash from rolling in, as they had hoped it would when they had taken over the opera house. They were also tired at trying to keep the fear over his appearances from evolving into full blown hysteria. So, yes, it seemed that the managers had more reasons to capture Peter than James did.

And so, on the next Friday night performance, several constables were stationed throughout the theater and both James and the managers were determined to use their skills to their full advantage.

As before, Wendy waited backstage, wringing her hands nervously. Although this time, her nervousness was not due to the upcoming performance but for what Peter would do to interrupt it and seek his revenge.

"I fear I forgot something the last time," said a voice from behind her and Wendy turned to find Peter standing in front of her, his masked face as it usually was, half hidden in shadow.

"What do you mean, Peter?" she asked, stepping closer to him.

In reply, he held up a red rose with its thorns carefully cut away and an emerald green ribbon tied to the stem. He held it out to her, smiling slightly. "For luck, my dear."

Wendy took it, stunned as she always was, by such a simple yet beautiful gift. She held it under her nose and smelled its intoxicating sweetness for several seconds before she looked up at Peter and said, "Thank you, Peter. It's beautiful and so sweet of you."

"You are quite welcome, Wendy," he replied. He now had his hands on her shoulders and she did not turn away, despite the other side of him that she had witnessed a week ago. In fact, she flung her arms around him and cried, "Oh, Peter, I'm sorry! I'm sorry for letting Jamie change so much in the play and upsetting you! I'm so sorry! Neither of us meant to hurt you as we so obviously did!"

"Why are you always apologizing, Wendy?" Peter asked, pulling out of their embrace, yet still keeping his hands on her shoulders. "You have nothing to apologize for; you were one of the few things that made the play as wonderful as it is and continue to do so. But, like I told you before, Wendy, the damage has been done and it must be repaired." He finished mysteriously and subsequently making Wendy's heart flutter again with nervousness as to what he would do. It beat even faster when he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips and then whispered. "Break a leg, Wendy lady, I shall be watching." Then, he turned to walk further backstage but something stopped him and he looked back at her and added, "That's 'good luck' in the theater, although I except you knew that already."

Wendy allowed herself a small smile. "Yes, Peter, I did."

"Good, well, I'm off to my seat then."

And he walked off before she had time to think of a reply.

* * *

But Peter did not go up to Box Five as he had told Wendy. Instead, he climbed up to his usual post in the rafters where he had a complete view of the stage from above and could see everything, even what was going on backstage. Now, he kept his gaze fixed down at the main stage and waited for the opportune moment to make his appearance. Unbeknownst to him, however, Jamie and Slightly had anticipated that he would watch from this vantage point. Because of this, both had choices places to stand where they had a good view of Peter's position and would know immediately when he decided to spring into action.

Although whether they would be able to prevent whatever happened next was another story entirely.

When the play finally did begin, Wendy was amazed that she was able to act as naturally as she did and did not immediately faint with nervousness and worry. Yet her nervousness abated little by little as the play progressed but she still kept the thought of Peter's revenge in the back of her mind.

The play was now approaching the part where Peter would make his entrance; it was the part that he despised more than even the ending. It was the part where Wendy told the Lost Boys the story of her parents and how they missed their children who had flown away and left them all alone.

From his perch, Peter watched as the Lost Boys settled themselves in a circle around Wendy and when she was about to begin her story, his hand tightened on one of the many ropes that surrounded him and he swung himself down to the stage below, his black cloak swirling around him like his own shadow.

When he landed in the exact center of the stage, the Lost Boys even though they were a few feet away from him, instantly scurried behind Wendy in fright. While the audience gasped in shock and surprise at his sudden appearance. They watched with bated breath as to what he would do as he was only standing stock still, staring out at them all.

"My dear guests, I fear you have all been fooled," he announced, his voice echoing around the vast room. "The play you are watching is truly not the one that I wrote, along with a trusted colleague of mine. It is the product of Mr. James Barrie, who while a gifted playwright, decided to smear my work with lies and other such cruel things." He paused to let his words sink and smiled in satisfaction when he saw that every eye was turned on him and every face was filled with fright. Peter looked up at the managers in their box seat and his smile widened when he saw that they were shaking although whether this was in fear or shock, Peter didn't know and didn't really care either. He kept that smile on his face as he turned back to the crowd and continued, "Because of the amount of damage done to my play, I feel that I must see to it so that this evening's performance is the last seen upon this stage."

Instantly, worried murmurings rose up from the crowd at Peter's words. But Peter did not listen as he turned and strode over to where Wendy sat stock still and white faced. The actors playing the Lost Boys quickly scrambled out of the way as he approached. Yet he paid them no mind as he offered his hand to her which she took, somewhat hesitantly.

No doubt seeing her fear, Peter said gently when she was standing in front of him. "Fear not, Wendy, you will be in Neverland while I unleash my revenge on these ignorant theatergoers. Tis sad that they have never had the chance to see the real magic of Jamie's play."

Wendy said nothing and bit her lip nervously. For all the while during the play, before Peter's surprise entrance, she had been developing her own plan in order to stop him from enacting his.

And now seemed like the perfect time to begin hers.

She threw her arms around his neck, crushing him to chest with such force that it not only surprised him but her as well. Nevertheless, Wendy felt his arms curl around her waist and draw her into him. Then, as they had done when Peter had appeared at the masquerade ball, their lips met in a passionate kiss, not caring that hundreds of eyes were watching.

But while she enjoyed the kiss, Wendy discretely edged her hand to cup the side of his face, there she slowly crawled her fingers to where they could grip the edge of Peter's mask. She hid these actions by occasionally stroking his cheek as well as to further distract him. Then, when she was becoming in need of oxygen, she pulled away from him and took his mask with him.

The phantom had finally been unmasked.

* * *

Wendy didn't realize she had been holding her breath until she let out a deep sigh as she gazed apologetically into Peter's face. She knew it was a horrible thing to do but it was for the safety of everyone around her.

Yet this fact didn't make her feel all that much better as she stared into Peter's face.

When she had first ripped off his mask, he looked as if she had slapped him in the face (which in a sense, she had) but now that the initial shock had worn off a little, he was staring at her with an expression of such sadness, disappointment and betrayal that Wendy wished that she could turn back time and relive the past few minutes. But this feeling quickly evaporated as she was finally able to get a good look at his face and her mouth fell open in surprise.

The section of his face that had been underneath the mask, in fact all of Peter's face, was _completely normal_.

Wendy's realization seem to have come at the same time as the audience's since a collective gasp rose from the crowd, no doubt one of surprise. For in truth, there was not a scar or blemish or scratch upon it that would label him as deformed or defected. It was pale, yes but it was a handsome face.

Suddenly Peter's head snapped to the right to look out at the crowd and when Wendy followed his gaze, she saw three constables running towards the stage. She quickly looked back at Peter to see that his face had hardened in anger as they drew near and he turned swiftly and scrambled back up to the catwalk above the stage, faster than anyone could think was possible. There, he drew his sword and before anyone could realize the severity of what he was about to do, he slashed the rope that held down the giant chandelier that lit the theater.

Screams exploded from the crowd as the gaudy fixture shook, its glass crystals jingling as it descended to the main floor. Wendy could only stare in the shock as people scrambled to get out of its way, before an arm grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off of the stage. There, she was released long enough to see that her captor was Peter, who grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the mayhem, to the place that Wendy knew as Neverland.

**Author's Note: Yes, another cliffy, I know. But I've already started on the next chapter and will definitely get it up MUCH sooner! Although I'm sorry to inform you that there will only be one more chapter and then the epilogue. Again, hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review!**


	16. All I Ask of You

**Author's Note: Hello! Once again, I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I had final exams towards the end of the school year and then my summer just became very busy right away! But here is the next chapter which I'm sorry to say is the last chapter before the epilogue. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, I'm so glad that so many people are enjoying this story and how effectively I can combine these two stories. Some of you may be upset at one section of this chapter but I promise that everything will turn out happily for Peter and Wendy in the end. So, enjoy and please review!**

Chapter 16

All I Ask of You

"Out! Get out!" James shouted to the fleeing crowd, although they didn't need to be told twice since a new threat had appeared once the chandelier had landed on the theater floor: fire. Although it was burning slowly, thanks to the thick material of the seats, it would soon engulf the theater and no one wanted to be inside when that happened.

"Sir, what about the boy?" shouted one of the constables as James tried to assist the managers in getting everyone safely outside.

"We must find—Nico!" James cried, grabbing Slightly by the shoulder in his attempt to flee. "Where did he take Wendy? You must show me where!"

"Why?" Slightly shouted. "So, you can arrest him for no reason?"

"Nico!" James screamed in anger. "He is destroying this theater and could take many lives with it!"

"Fine!" Slightly snapped as the screams and fire intensified around them. "I will take you and _only_ you to him! But remember, keep your hand at the level of your eyes!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Peter and Wendy had arrived in Neverland where Peter was gripping Wendy's shoulders so tightly that she could feel his fingers through her thin nightdress.

"Why, Wendy?" he asked softly, all trace of anger gone. Yet it was this softness that was more frightening than his raging anger had been. "Why did you take my mask off? I am a monster, can't you see that?"

"No, Peter," Wendy replied, voice quavering slightly. "I cannot, because to me and to everyone else in the theater, you are beautiful." Here, she moved forward and leaned in to kiss his cheek but he turned away from her, shaking his head. "You are lying. I am so disappointed in you, because I allowed myself to believe that such a lovely girl as you could never lie." He turned back around to face her again and added softly, "or betray me." Then, he marched further into his home without another word.

But Wendy was determined to convince that she would not leave him and she hurried after him. "Peter, please believe me. I know it was foolish of me to pull off your mask like I did, but at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do!"

"The right thing?" he growled, spinning around so fast to face her that she nearly ran into him. "You thought it was _right_ to humiliate me in front of all those people? Are you really so daft, Wendy?"

"I wasn't trying to humiliate you, Peter!" Wendy cried, grabbing his arm to prevent him from turning away from her again. She was determined to have her say. "Really, I wasn't and I've already told you what I thought I was going to accomplish by pulling off your mask. But I don't think those people hated you on seeing your real face. I know you've seen hatred—"

"_Seen_ hatred?" Peter yelled angrily. "Oh, no much more than that. I was hounded out by everyone and met with hatred everywhere! No kind words from anyone did I get and no compassion anywhere."

"Peter, I-!"

"Wait, my dear," said Peter, holding up his hand to silence her as he turned his head to look at the closed gate. "I believe we have a guest." He added and he smiled mischievously as a glint of wild excitement appeared in his eye. It was one that Wendy had never seen before (and did not like at all), yet she reluctantly turned to look at the new arrival.

"James!" she cried in surprise and shock at the sight of him.

"Open this gate, boy!" James called out to Peter who still grinning happily. "My dear James!" he exclaimed in shocking joy. "This is quite an unparalleled to delight to see you! I had _so_ hoped you would come!"

"Free her!" yelled James, ignoring Peter's mirth at his appearance. Peter's smile widened at this as he strode over to one side of the vast room, pulled a series of ropes and gate slowly began to rise. As James waded through the knee high water, suddenly speechless in awe of the place, Peter said, "Allow me to welcome you to my home." He gestured about with a great sweep of his arms. "Neverland."

"So that is the name you have given to your personal prison?" James asked, his arrogant confidence returning as he drew closer and closer to Wendy. "You might take the name literally and _never_ return to the _land_ above!" he said, laughing cruelly.

Anger boiled within Wendy as his words. After everything that had happened, after all that she and him had learned of Peter's past, he still insisted on insulting and despising him. Looking at him then, Wendy had to wonder how in the wonder she had managed to even remain his presence for so long and her anger was significantly stoked at this revelation of her own foolishness.

At that moment, the incredible anger that Wendy was feeling seemed to manifest itself in Peter as he suddenly yelled with rage and launched himself at James. There was a great splash as Peter tackled him into the water. Wendy cried out in surprise at this but was not entirely concerned for James' well being, because in her honest opinion, he deserved it.

She watched in silence as Peter fastened his infamous "lasso" around James' neck and all but dragged him out of the water and onto the dock where he untied him only to crisscross the rope around his chest, tying him securely to a post of the dock. "There," he said when he was finished. "That should hold you." Naturally, James struggled against his bonds to free himself, but they seemed to become tighter the more he fought. Finally, he looked up at Peter, who stood before him and seemed to enjoy observing his pointless efforts.

"Don't just stand there you…you _fiend_!" James shouted. "Untie me!"

Peter raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "You must be dafter than I thought, James. The last thing I want to do is untie you." Then, as James began to stutter in protest, Peter turned and walked back over to Wendy who was smiling at James' predicament and as Peter had so "eloquently" put it, daftness.

"Now that he won't be bothering us for awhile, it's time that I give you what you gave me on the stage," said Peter, taking Wendy's hands in his. Then, he leaned forward, letting his lips meet Wendy's in a gentle kiss. While it might have been chaise, Wendy was tired for being as such all the time so she pressed harder against his lips, begging for more…and Peter complied. Not only did he deepen the kiss, but he pulled into his chest, so tightly that she nearly pulled away from him for lack of air. Yet their close proximity allowed her to finally caress his face, his entire face without his protective mask getting in the way.

"Oh, Wendy," Peter sighed as she paused in her caressing to lean to tenderly kiss the side of his face that had been hidden by the mask.

"Yes, Peter?" She whispered into his ear, kissing his earlobe after she did.

"It's just…just that I—"

"Get away from that boy, Miss Darling!" A loud male voice interrupted, the shout magnified by the high ceiling of Peter's home.

Wendy instantly clung to Peter in surprise and fight at the noise. Looking over his shoulder, however, she saw several policemen wading through the small lake towards them, a few had their rifles raised.

And they were pointing at Peter.

* * *

"James!" Wendy shouted at the sight of the raised rifles. "What did you _do_?"

"I didn't do anything!" He cried, his voice suddenly high with panic. "I came here alone, I swear!" He added at Peter who had released Wendy and was now glowering down at him. While James cowered in fright, Peter's eyes flicked upward to glare at the approaching constables before he turned and scampered further into his home.

"No, please, let him go!" Wendy cried, running forward as the policemen reached Neverland. "Please, don't hurt him, he has done nothing wrong!"

" 'Nothing wrong'?" repeated the constable to whom she was begging with, in shock. "My dear girl, that boy is responsible for the destruction of this theater! We have been ordered by the mangers to capture that boy by using whatever means necessary." And then, to Wendy's horror, the policeman raised his rifle and she looked to see where it was aiming at only to see: Peter.

While he had seemingly run off to save himself, he had now returned to fetch her. But upon seeing the rifle pointing straight at him, he immediately turned and fled again at which point many of the constables, including the one standing beside Wendy, fired their guns.

Despite the hail of bullets, Wendy sprinted off in search of Peter, desperate to know if he had managed to protect himself from the onslaught. In her worry and haste, she cut through his beautifully cultivated flowerbeds, crushing many of them but did not stop until she found him…lying on the ground with a bullet in his leg.

"Peter!" Wendy cried, falling to her knees beside him. "Oh, Peter, I'm sorry!" Quickly, at the sight of the blood that was pouring from the wound, she tore off a strip of her dress.

"No, don't touch me!" he yelled angrily as she tied the material around his leg as a way to stop the bleeding. "Get away from me! All I bring with me is danger and hatred! Leave and forget me, Wendy! Forget _all_ of this!"

"No!" Wendy yelled, angry herself at his foolish requests. She grabbed his face forcibly in hers and said, "I love you, Peter. I'm not going to leave you. Not ever. Now, stay with me. You have to stay awake!"

"No," he moaned. "My leg…it hurts."

"I know…I know," she smoothed, stroking his hair in comfort. She could hear footsteps approaching them but Wendy didn't care who they belonged to only that she remained with Peter.

"Wendy," Peter moaned again as she cradled his head in her hands.

"Yes, Peter?"

"I—I love you too." Then, she watched his eyes drifted close and she, in turn began to weep.

* * *

Peter did not know how much time had passed. He saw only darkness and had the strangest feeling that he was floating, somewhere between the living and the dead. Yet he had no power over where he would float to and so remained suspended, his existence in limbo.

Eventually, he became more aware of his surroundings. Such as the fact that he was not really floating but lying on something soft. A burning heat pressed against his closed eyelids and he squeezed them more tightly shut against the glare. But it was this action that caused him to then open his eyes and look up into the worried yet relieved face of Wendy.

"Hello, Peter," she said softly as she kissed his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

With this simple question, memories of his last moments in the opera house flashed through his mind. The confrontation with James; the arrival of the policemen; getting shot in the leg as he had tried to escape and his begging Wendy to leave him and let him die in his beloved him. Now, seeing Wendy sitting beside him, he couldn't believe he had every wanted her to leave him, for really with their common pasts, she was the one he could really relate to. To answer question, he moved his lips but no sound came out. Frustrated, he licked them and managed to croak. "Wh—Where am…I?"

"You're at Dr. Doyle's office," Wendy replied. "You've been here for about two days."

"_Two_ days?"

"Yes, the bullet was deeper than we thought, but—"

"You'll be right as rain soon enough," said a voice happily from the doorway. Wendy sat back so that Peter could see Dr. Arthur Conan Doyle smiling broadly at him.

"Hello, lad," said the doctor as he strode into the room. "You may not remember me but I am a dear friend of Mr. Barrie's."

"You helped me when Jamie took me out of the orphanage," said Peter as a sudden memory of the man's face sprang into his mind. "You—You tried to take off my mask."

"Yes, yes, I did," said Dr. Doyle, nodding. "And may I say that it is wonderful to see you again,_ all_ of you, that is."

At his words, Peter brought his hands up to his face and felt, not the hard form of his mask but his own smooth skin. It felt strange touch it in front of other people since he had been so used to others fearing him and turning away.

"Do—Do you have a mirror, Dr. Doyle?" Peter asked.

Wordlessly, the doctor handed him a small one and Peter was able to gaze upon his true, unmasked face. He had seen his reflection before of course, but never without hatred and disgust.

"You see, Peter," said Wendy gently. "You are quite handsome after all. There was no need to hide your face like you did."

"Yes, I did," said Peter. He handed the small mirror back to Dr. Doyle and taking this as his cue, he left the room.

When they were alone, Peter toyed with Wendy's hand as he pondered the best reason as to why he decided to hide his unblemished face as he had. Finally, he decided to simply say, "They thought I was a monster."

"What?" asked Wendy, snapping her gaze back to his as she seemed to have been drifting off.

"They thought I was a monster," Peter repeated softly. "Just because I survived a disease and my parents didn't."

"They were scared," said Wendy gently.

"Of course they were," said Peter bitterly. "They were scared of _me_! And for no reason at all! Because of them, I've had to hide and hate my own face!" At this, Peter turned his head away from Wendy, suddenly ashamed at his blunt truthfulness. He was so used to keeping his feelings (especially that were personally painful to him) inside that it felt like he was ripping a piece of himself apart in his confessions. Even though they were to the girl he loved and had loved, for nearly as long as he had worn the mask.

After a few silent minutes, he felt her fingers stroke his hair as she said, "Peter, it was very wrong what they did to you before you were taken to the orphanage and while you were there. They shouldn't have and I hope you can see that there are still people in the world who love and care for your well being. Me, especially if you don't mind me saying so, since you are the only family I have."

At her words, Peter turned his head back to face her. "Really?"

"Yes…and may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"I know you are so used to being the phantom of the opera but I think, with the destruction of the theater, that you can just be Peter Pan from now on."

"I'd like that," Peter said with a heavy sigh. "I'd like that very much." Then, he raised himself up a little so that he could press her lips to hers and they shared, perhaps not as passionate of a kiss as the one they had shared in Neverland, but a very wonderful and loving kiss just the same.

"Wendy?" Peter whispered in her ear when they had broken their kiss. "Now, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Peter."

"Will you stay with me forever?"

And he felt rather saw her smile at his question as she looped her arms gently around him and he did the same to her. "Yes, Peter," she said, "I would never dream of staying with anyone else but you."

"Good," Peter replied, "because that's all I ask of you."

**Author's Note: The idea for Peter getting shot came from a friend of mine who didn't get why the police officers didn't just shoot the phantom when he was standing on the stage since he was right there…plus I wanted to add a little drama to this part. Hope you liked the chapter with my little twist and please review!**


	17. Epilouge: In the Gardens

**Author's Note: Yes, I know this is incredibly late but I was taking a summer class that took up a lot of my time with reading/writing papers and to be honest, I procrastinated on this because I wasn't really sure of **_**what**_** to write. Well, here is what I came up with and I'm very satisfied with it and I hope you all are too! Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews! Enjoy the epilogue!**

Epilogue: In the Gardens

_London, 1944_

James had been walking through the park for hours.

Ever since he had left the auction, carrying the music box that had once belonged to the "phantom" of the opera house, he knew that such a treasure did not belong on a high shelf to be admired by strangers.

It belonged with its owner.

Knowing what he had to do, James hailed a taxi and told the driver to take him to Kensington Gardens. When he had arrived, however he realized that he could not do what he had come to do at that moment. He needed to retell the story to himself and by the end, perhaps he would have the peace that he so desired.

And that was exactly what he did.

As he walked the many paths of the extensive park, he allowed his mind to wander back to earlier times from his own memories and the ones that Wendy had told him throughout her many letters (which had come from all corners of the globe) that she had sent to Jamie. The playwright had shown the letters to him at one point and James felt very privileged to read them because he was confident that he changed considerably from the lovesick boy that he had once been.

He also realized, during his long walk down memory lane, how utterly foolish he had been. Why didn't he realize, right from the beginning the deep connection that Wendy had with Peter? Why did he have to stick his nose into their relationship that had started when they were only children, years after James had left Wendy's life?

He knew why of course, and a small smile crossed his lips at the thought.

He had been hopelessly in love with her. So love, that he wanted her all to himself and was willing to compete for her if only to have her love in return.

Now, having grown up and matured, he could only shake his head at his younger self's thoughtlessness. If he could've, he certainly would have never pursued Wendy as obsessively as he had.

Unfortunately, it was all in the past now.

Just like her.

As he continued to walk through the park, his ultimate destination became clearer and clearer in his mind until he found himself standing in front of a stature of a young boy dressed in leaves standing atop a large pile of rocks.

It was Peter Pan.

Despite the destruction of the theater on opening night, Jamie's play was a success and had been preformed every year at Christmastime since. Because of its main character's fame and popularity, a statue had erected in the place where Peter Pan called home before his journey to Neverland. Yet after its fateful first performance at the Duke of York's Opera House, nothing had been seen or heard of Peter or Wendy for over a year until she began sending letters to Jamie as to their travels together but as far as James knew, they never returned to London.

As he contemplated the statue before him, James realized that it really didn't look anything like the "real" Peter, although James had the feeling that he would be thrilled with it just the same. Thinking of Peter, he had to wonder where he was now and what he thought of the world outside of the theater and London. But most of all he wondered if Wendy was with him. He hoped so because he knew that only with Peter, was she really and truly happy.

A thought occurred to him as he stared up at the stone youth's face. He looked down at the music box in his hand and opened the lid.

Inside, he found not the panpipes that the auctioneer had said would be there but a yellowed scrap of paper with faded but elegant writing on it. Carefully, James lifted it out and held it up to the sunlight.

It read:

_Forget not, your past for in the future it will help you grow. _

James smiled and said softly. "Indeed it can, Peter. Indeed it can."

He stared at the words for several long minutes, committing them to memory, neither knowing nor caring if it was Peter who had actually written them. After he had placed the paper back in the box, he closed the lid and gazed at the ornate figures on the top that so reminded him of Peter and Wendy. Then, he gently laid the music box at the statue's base. It was only proper to return such a personal thing of Peter's to the one thing that represented him the most now.

Then, James turned and began making his way back through the gardens. Yet he had only gone a few feet when he looked back over his shoulder at the stature of the boy who would forever be young.

"Wherever you are," he said to the statue, "I want you to know that you were never really a demon, you were an angel. An angel of the opera who saved Wendy from a life that I don't think she ever really wanted. You showed her love that I could never give or deserve to give her. So, wherever you are, I hope you are happy._ Both_ of you."

With this fond farewell, he turned back and continued on his way out of the park, looking ahead to his future.

But knowing, deep down that he could never ever forget the beautiful girl and the mysterious boy from his past.

**Author's Note: The message in the music box happens to be my favorite quote from J.M. Barrie. :)**

**Well, after over a year, this story has finally come to an end. I want to give a **_**huge**_** thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited or put this story on story alert. I'm truly amazed at how many of you enjoyed this story and how well I was able to blend the two amazing stories Peter Pan and the Phantom of the Opera together. This fic will be my last Peter Pan fic for awhile because I want to focus on writing fics for other categories that I enjoy, but don't worry I have a lot of ideas involving Peter and co. that will be written eventually!**

**Hopefully that news didn't rain on anyone's parade too much! So, please review! And thank you all for reading/reviewing, I appreciate all of the encouraging feedback.**

**Happy Writing! :)**


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